Impossibly
by msmaj
Summary: Completely A/U. Logan and Veronica are dating at the onset of the second World War. What happens when their world starts to fall apart around them?
1. Looking Back

_This is my very first VM story, and I know it is completely irregular but I had a feeling and just went with it. I don't own any of the characters, the song referenced is by Glenn Miller and is called "I Know Why (And So Do You)". Please please let me know what you think, good and bad, reviews are love :)_

22 September 1945

Sometimes she preferred the steel conveyor belt, the smell of hot metal and feel of grit under her nails to being dressed up, well-manicured and stifled behind a pristinely polished desk. Today was definitely one of those days. The phone only rang three times in as many hours, all the paperwork had been filed in the first ten minutes of her shift. The floor was spotless, windows gleamed, and even the overstuffed couch in the waiting area had been wiped down and shone in the bright California sun. Veronica Mars was clearly a woman on a mission, and, today, it was simply to keep her mind from wandering. She silently cursed herself for keeping the office so clean regularly. It's been three years since she started working at VLM Investigations, and due to her fastidious nature, it ran like a well-oiled machine. She sighed loudly. There was nothing left to do. She slumped back in her chair, missing factory work more and more, wishing she had something tedious to be doing, praying something would keep the thoughts at bay.

"Hey Veronica?" Vinnie Van Lowe stepped out of his office and crossed over to her desk, his slow and steady gait amplifying the injury that kept him securely on the home front. "Would you mind closing up tonight, I got a date tonight with a real 'able grable'. It's a good thing tomorrow is Sunday, but if everything goes to plan, I might not be here Monday either." He sat on the edge of her desk and she mock heaved at his implication. While he certainly ranked highly on the sleazy scale, he was a good man at heart. Her family hadn't been in Neptune a year when Keith and Vinnie met and decided to go into business together, both their reputations lending weight in the PI arena, which was suddenly booming in Southern California. They'd built a successful and lucrative business, and though it had slowed as of late, the return of thousands of troops meant business as people started looking for love ones who may choose to disappear after the war.

"Sure thing, Mr. Van Lowe. I'll be glad to hold down the fort while you and your latest lady chucklehead do whatever gross thing it is that you do." She shuddered at the thought as he shook his head, laughing at the young woman he couldn't help but look at like family. Bowing his head in thanks, he took his leave, trying to shake off the sadness her expression instilled in him. When Keith had left, he assured him that Veronica would be taken care of, no matter what. Vinnie was sure no one suspected Lianne would just take off, but as she did, Vinnie made sure Veronica had everything she needed. It was shortly after her father left when Veronica noticed the changes in her mother's behavior. They were little things at first. Showing up late for bond rallies she'd help organize, it quickly escalated to her being there completely intoxicated. Then she stopped showing up at all. She was rarely even home. Veronica only knew her mother had been home because her father's letters had been opened, the money he'd sent back for them to survive on, gone.

While she finished her senior year, she'd stayed with him, working after school at the office. He knew she had hoped to go to college, but the kid never got a break. After graduating she took a second shift job at a factory, working at least ten hour days, seven days a week during the peak of the war. But she never complained, she did her jobs and went back to the small studio apartment she'd rented. Her one best friend was at school on the other side of the country, the other had been in England helping with the codebreaking effort and decided to stay when she'd been accepted into Oxford. The majority of the males in the group had enlisted after graduation, except one who was currently enrolled at Georgetown, but they had come home already. The realization came full circle and took the breath from her lungs.

He's coming home. Or well, perhaps he would be if she knew where he was, if she actually had known anything about where he had been the past three years. When the Germans had laid down their arms in May she allowed herself to hope. Not much, but enough to hold on. Just maybe she'd be able to get lost in those brown eyes again. When she hadn't heard anything by July, she retreated back into her own head. Anyone who knew her could see the light dimming in her eyes, the flickers of hope were less and less, and glimmers of happiness past haunted her face now. Now Japan had surrendered and her dad was coming home, she knew that much for certain. She could only wonder if the boy she had been missing would make his way back to her as well. So caught up her in own thoughts Veronica didn't realize the pen she was holding tapped the mirrored beating of her heart out on the desk. It was frantic, as if she had been dancing… a quickstep? She thought, almost reluctantly. The memory of the last dance they shared, the night that started it all, weighed heavy in her heart. If she could just get the smell of him to stop suffocating her, surely this memory would pass and she could go about her day.

Who are you kidding, Veronica? It's been a whole month (a new record) since you've replayed this in your head. There were no details you missed. And apparently nothing you could have done to stop him. Nothing has changed. Except the war is really, really over now.

She tried to stifle down the hope that continued to rise, she bit it back as if it were bile. She could deal with being angry, had perfected lonely as a matter of fact, but she refused to be blindly hopeful. While the modicum of happiness was genuine, her father's return was the only bright spot that had broken through the darkness she'd used as a shield the past few years. It had been so easy for her to bury herself in school and work. And now, well, she was completely and utterly alone with her thoughts.

 _21 March 1942_

" _Come on Veronica Mars!" the voice bellowed. "This is our first Hollywood party," Paused and in a slightly more reserved tone continued, "…and group sleepover in Los Angeles, live a little!" Lilly Kane's voice carried through the dressing rooms causing Veronicas eyes to roll involuntarily. Their friend Mac just laughed as they argued about the cost of the dresses, their hair being done, and just how much was too much sex appeal._

 _"Lilly, we are barely seventeen. This may be our first large social outing in Los Angeles but it probably won't be our last." She looked at her form in the mirror, right now her slight frame was completely overwhelmed by the full skirted dress she'd chosen. Frowning, she ran her hands down the bodice, satin giving way to effusive tulle; she looked more a little girl playing dress up than the young woman she was._

 _"Of course, Ronica, when you become Mrs. Logan Echolls you'll be Hollywood's golden girl, a never ending buffet of fancy! And Princess Lilly, here, will never miss a soiree in New York next year, or probably here for that matter. Just tonight, for me, don't be a drip!" whined Mac. Lilly clapped her approval knowing Veronica would surely indulge Macs fancy._

 _"Mac!" Came the mockingly chastising reply. "Need I again remind you that we're only seventeen? I mean, who's to say Logan and I will last the year let alone get married…" her voice fell away, the abrupt halt to her thought processes covered by the raucous laughter in the corridor. The mere thought of marrying Logan put her in a tailspin, it also brought a sickeningly saccharine smile to her face she couldn't stop if she tried. Could she really have a future with Logan? They'd been steadies practically since they started high school. The former best friends were happy just to be in one another's orbit, but as time passed and they got older and grew closer, the once distant future began looming on a much closer horizon. These thoughts bore heavy weight, certainly nothing to be decided in a dressing room. Except for one thing, the question on everyone's mind. Would she even try it on? The last dress they'd pulled for her, what the conversation had been about until the abrupt segue into fantasized matrimony, maybe she would start asking the fates for answers tonight._

 _"Do we need to send someone in there?" Mac called._

 _"She's probably drowning in all the chiffon and petticoats." Lilly said wryly, smirking at Mac who bit back her own laugh. Before the next catty remark could come, Veronica emerged, stunned silence greeting her._

 _The dress was red, lace, and tight where it stopped, just above the knees. Lilly took in the appearance of her friend and smiled in devilish approval. The wiggle dress, with, its capped sleeves and daring v neck fit Veronica like a glove, amplifying her feminine form, making her look the part of the vixen Lilly and Mac knew was lurking on the inside._

 _"It seems your evil plan is working Miss Kane."_

 _"Why Miss Mackenzie, whatever do you mean?" Lilly asked sardonically. "If by plan you mean us taking over LA tonight, then yes. It is working spectacularly!" she giggled. Looking at herself in the mirror once again, she knew she had made the right choice. Her floor length, black velvet gown covered more skin than she usually liked, but its heart shaped bodice and barely there back more than made up for it. Wallace Fennel had no idea what he was in for, tonight, Lilly Kane would teach her friends a thing or two about living for the moment. She peeked at Mac, whose full amethyst dress made her glow. She looked radiant, and that was more than she could ask for. Fully smiling she looked back at Veronica, who had added red satin pumps to her ensemble, yes, tonight would be the start, she thought._

 _"Red is definitely your color Veronica Mars. Logan won't know what do with you, or well, he will…that boy is totally clobbered over you!" she said with a wink. Veronica tried to roll her eyes but couldn't help the smile that stayed plastered on her face._

 _"Well ladies, I suppose we should change out of our finery and move on to the next step in our transformation. The salon awaits!" Mac went back into her dressing room to remove her gown, leaving Lilly and Veronica to follow suit. Taking one last look in the mirror, Veronica said goodbye to the girl and hoped that the woman who emerged had the strength to carry her through._

 _The boys, minus Duncan who was driving up with Meg later in the day, had spent the morning surfing. They'd grabbed lunch at the Brown Derby before heading back to Logan's parents' house. Tonight, Aaron and Lynn Echolls were hosting a soiree at the Millennium Biltmore, part bond drive, part fundraiser and farewell as they were leaving to join the USO on their current tour in Europe. The boys lounged around the pool a bit before they realized time had caught up with their leisure and decided it was time to get ready. Being from families of good repute, each young man donned their own custom tuxedos, each personality reflected in the spats and pinstripes they'd chosen. Dick and Wallace teased each other mercilessly. Dick had insisted that Wallace was completely unprepared for the torrent that was Lilly Kane, but having been from Chicago, Wallace assured him he'd be able to handle whatever she threw at him._

 _"Your funeral, my friend." Dick laughed. "That girl is something else altogether."_

 _"I am way more man than Lilly Kane is used to." Wallace aggrandized, causing Dick and Logan to laugh hysterically, then they gently broke to Wallace that Lilly wasn't like most girls her age, and had no qualms about going after everything she wanted. And they were positive Wallace was on the menu tonight, and as much as he wanted to be the predator, he was most likely the prey. "How long have you and Mac been together, Dick?" he asked, more consigned._

 _"Almost six months….right?" He looked to Logan, who just nodded._

 _"And you and Vee?"_

 _"Oh, this'll be good." Dick muttered. Wallace raised an eyebrow, imploring Logan to continue. "It's a hotly debated topic. And it depends on the mood either is in when asked."_

 _"That is not true." Logan interjected shooting his friend a dirty look as he worked to smooth the cowlick at the front of his hairline down. "Ronnie and I met when we moved to Neptune. We were twelve. She and Lilly were best friends, and DK and I became close so the four of us were always together." Of course he doesn't mention how often he stayed over at the Kane's with the hopes she would too._

 _"So, you started dating at twelve?" Wallace asked incredulously._

 _"Annnnd here it comes." Logan rolled his eyes at Dick._

 _"No, we didn't start dating then. But that's when I knew she was it for me. It took me two years of relentless romance to even get her to look in my direction." Dick coughed loudly._

 _"No. No, you moped for two years when your advances got you nowhere. She told you she wasn't allowed to date until high school. You just followed her around with puppy dog eyes until the week before freshman year when she showed up at your house, and kissed you." A grin spread across Logan's face as he remembered, vividly, her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. His mind wandered now, thinking about her getting ready down the hall, what she could possibly be wearing…or not wearing at the moment. Dick and Wallace's voices brought him back to the present._

 _"Okay, so officially we've been together three years, but since I met her, I haven't dated anyone else…which is why I say five. Hence, the hotly contested portion of our relationship."_

 _"Ronnie's a dish, really Lo, but haven't you ever thought about anyone else?" Visions of a future with her by his side, his wife, the mother of his children pass behind his eyes and he can't help the butterflies that flutter in his stomach._

 _"Never."_

 _"Damn." Wallace conceded. Nodding in understanding he went back to tying his tie._

 _"Gentleman!" the newcomer greeted as he entered the room, his suit in a garment bag slung over his shoulder. "Looks like we have some catching up to do!" he said removing a flask from his breast pocket, took a swig and passed it around the room._

 _"Meg all settled?" Logan asked handing him back his flask. Duncan nodded, they went back to dressing, the conversation turning to the war effort, none wanting to give up how terrified they were at the prospect._

" _Logan and Veronica will arrive with us," Aaron stated, talking only to the boys as the girls were finishing getting ready with Lynn. "The rest of you will follow in the limo." He said clapping Logan on the shoulder. He flinched despite his best effort to bite it down. No one seemed to notice and for that he was thankful. His father instructed the housekeeper to fetch the ladies, it was time to go._

 _When the girls came downstairs, all the men commented on how lovely they looked. Meg in green was a vision; Mac's violet dress was striking against her skin and eyes, her brown hair pulled away from her face in a sea of softly pinned curls; and Lilly looked like the heroine out of the pictures. Her makeup was bold and daring, much like her personality, she embodied the dress that ensconced her…Wallace was definitely not expecting his heart to leap into his throat at the sight of her. Veronica was still upstairs with Lynn as his friends got into the limo, he was anxious as he stood in the foyer alone with his father._

" _Now son, I know you and Veronica have been together for a long time, but I need you to know how important being responsible is." Logan choked down the scoff that stuck in his throat, he hadn't even really thought about that. Okay, maybe a little, but not in any realistic way. "Your mother and I will probably be staying at the hotel tonight and we're trusting you to not go and fuck up our lives by knocking up your sweet little girlfriend." The anger burned in Logan's veins, he was certain if looks could kill that Aaron would have keeled over._

" _Gee, thanks for having faith in me Dad. I assure you, I am capable of keeping it in my pants." He said pointedly. Aaron's face tightened as he turned toward his son, the nasty comment on the tip of his tongue as he heard Lynn and Veronica come down the stairs. All thoughts of his father flew out the door when he saw her. His breathing was shaky as he took her in, the red dress and shoes, full red lips and smoky eyes, her beautiful blonde hair pulled back in sleek victory rolls with large curls gathered at the back of her head, he couldn't stop the smile that came, or mask the desire in his eyes._

" _Wow," he said breathlessly. "You are incredible." He took her hand and spun her around in front of him, blushing as he continued to drink her in. He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, wishing more than anything his parents weren't in the room. "You look lovely, too, Mom." He said kissing her on the cheek as well, though he never let go of Veronica's hand._

" _Oh, Logan," she smiled. "Shall we?" Lynn hooked her arm into Aaron's and led the way to the Rolls Royce Phantom._

" _You look quite handsome yourself, Mr. Echolls." Veronica said flirting, fingering his red tie, taking in how perfectly they complemented each other._

" _I love you." He said softly before they walked out the door and kissed her sweetly on the lips._

" _I love you." She slid across the back seat, entwining her fingers with Logan's as he settled next to her._

" _Oh I love this song!" Lynn exclaimed and turned up the radio._

" **Why do robins sing in December**

 **Long before the Springtime is due**

 **And even though it's snowing, violets are growing**

 **I know why and so do you…"**

" _You'll have to ask Glenn to play it for you tonight." Aaron says, his eyes flicker to the mirror and notice the intensity between his son and his girlfriend. They haven't broken eye contact and their hands remain tightly interwoven as Logan lifts them to his lips. He can't help but smile to himself as he remembers how truly wonderful love can be._

" _Lilly, we need to slow down! My feet are not made for shoes like this!" Mac exclaimed as she and Dick made for the refreshments._

" _Don't be a quitter Mac! Tonight we are digging the jive until we can't jits no more!"_

" _I'm afraid I am all jitterbugged out." Meg and Duncan came up next to Mac and Dick, equally sweaty and tired. Noticing Logan and Veronica making their way to their friends, Lilly relented and finally gave Wallace a minute to breathe._

" _Damn girl. Had I known you danced like that I wouldn't have worn my wingtips." Lilly laughed and kissed him, softly at first, but deepened the kiss as they made their way off the dance floor._

 _"Oh get a room!" Veronica exclaimed laughing, still tightly holding onto Logan's hand. She knew being with his father caused him a great deal of discomfort and she would do anything with in her power to keep him happy and uplifted. Broody Logan was no fun, and tonight, there was no time for that. She knew his parents wouldn't be home, that's what Lynn had kept her upstairs for. She had gotten a crash course in contraception, her options if something were to happen and how happy Lynn would be when she and Logan married and could legitimately start a family. The 'M' word…again. It couldn't be a coincidence, she thought, especially if her boyfriend's mother had brought it up. Maybe there was more at play than she knew._

 _"Well look at the Bobbysox Brigade!" A voice slurred near them. Veronica turned to find three young sailors approaching their group._

 _"They don't look that young, Sammy. I mean this girl here, she could definitely show us a good time." He said reaching to touch Lilly. Wallace stepped in between them, noticing how all the males seemed to move their dates behind them._

 _"Alright swabbies, time to move on." Dick said coolly, pointing them toward a group of clearly single, age appropriate women._

 _"Nah, I like the view right here." Sammy, presumably replied. "What do you think J.B.?" He looked up and down each of the girls as if she was a piece of meat, and when he got to Veronica, a lascivious grin spread across his features._

 _"No, I found what I want to dine on tonight. Step aside boy, let me show her how a real man moves." Veronica swallowed thickly feeling every muscle in Logan's body go rigid._

 _"You really need to move along. You clearly don't know who I am. Or where you're at for that matter."_

 _"Oh, we know just fine, right Sammy?" He nodded. "Matt?" he took up the remaining flank staring down Logan. "We know, you kids, in your fancy duds and daddy's money will never have to worry if they ship home your body, or just your tags. You think you have the world boy, but it is changing out there, and when this war is over…you'll still be rich, sure, but you'll be soft. And no woman wants that when she can have a real man."_

 _"You clearly have no idea what women want then." Veronica said from behind Logan. "Because respect is pretty high on that list," she ducked under his arm and secured it around her shoulder. She could feel Logan seething, rage was rolling off him, as well as Duncan, Wallace and Dick. Presumably, they were right, they'd never have to go to war…lay down their lives for their country or fight for their next meal, but it was hardly their fault. Logan hated that because of his parent's fame it was assumed he would never be anything but a poor, little rich kid. He was so much more, and if only Veronica saw it, so be it. At least that's how she felt, that way she didn't have to share him._

 _"Oh sweetie," J.B. stepped forward, cheap gin on his breath as he closed the distance between them. "I can give you something so much better…and bigger, than respect. And you would love it." Logan's fist clenched as went to strike._

 _"Logan! Is there a problem here?" His dad asked as he walked over to the gathering crowd._

 _"No, sir. These fine men were just leaving after they told us how thankful they were to be here with us tonight, before they shipped out." J.B. stepped back, smirk still firmly ensconced on his face._

 _"Yes, Mr. Echolls. We are so happy to be here, living the high life for just one night before we leave our homes, maybe forever. We were hoping that before the night was over, we might have a dance with these lovely ladies, you know, just in case we don't make it back. I'd die happily if I got once dance with this dame." He said pointing to Veronica, who trembled slightly next to Logan._

 _"We humbly thank you for your service, gentleman," Lynn breezed over and instantly diffused the tension mounting in the air around them. "But alas, as these girls are not yet of age, it would be highly inappropriate. Can I offer you a dance instead?" She held out her hand and he gladly led her to the dance floor, his friends backing away to find willing partners of their own. It didn't stop Logan's anger from growing, his friends laughed and dismissed their comments but he could still feel Veronica shaking next to him. He was seething. What was worst though, is that he was right. It was unlikely that they'd ever be faced with leaving everything they loved behind with the very good possibility they'd never come back. And that shook him more than he'd like to admit._

 _"Lo?" Veronica said quietly, bringing him out of his thoughts he noticed the song that was playing. A soft smile replaced the scowl as he turned to his girlfriend. He simply held his hand out to her and led her to the floor. Her body fit perfectly against his as she tucked her head in the crook of his neck, the melody of the song wrapping around them, pulling them closer. "I can't wait until we get home." She said softly, her voice taking on a husky edge. Logan swallowed his astonishment and looked at her with hazy eyes. She could get lost in that molten chocolate stare for the rest of her days, she was more in love with him at that moment than she had ever been and knew it could only grow from there. Logan kissed her, fully, careful not to draw too much attention but trying to convey all he was feeling in that kiss. It worked, because not long after she asked if they could go. Home together. Now if only he could feel like he deserved that chance with her._

The ringing of the phone snapped her back to the present. She was thankful for the distraction, her thoughts were about to slip into something she wasn't ready to delve back into just yet. That night was sacred for her, and without the appropriate amount of wine, she couldn't handle it. Finishing up her call and the last of the office duties, she was happy to finally be free of the confines that held her ensnared all day. Not that going home was a reprieve. Not when that same Rolls Royce Phantom sat in her garage. Not when the house she was living in was once his. Not when every memory she wanted to escape assaulted her when she stepped through the doors. It was going to be another very long night.


	2. In waking

_Again, I do not own any of the characters, I am simply borrowing them for the time being. I intend to start out kind of slowly, so bare with me, please. Many thank yous to the awesome reviewers and followers, your thoughts and words have meant so much! Feedback is always appreciated._

 _March 21, 1942_

 _"Are you getting sleepy, beautiful?" He whispered to head laying on his chest. The reply came in sigh form, happy and languid, they slowly danced their way off the floor. "I'll tell my parents we're leaving." Veronica looked up and pulled her boyfriend's head towards hers, kissing him with more ferocity than he was accustomed to. He fingered an errant curl fallen down her neck as they broke away, struck by her azure stare, something glinted behind her eyes that he couldn't quite place. If wasn't so sure it wasn't, he could have sworn it was like, hunger? No, desire. He tried to play off the shiver that mere thought sent down his spine with one last twirl, releasing her as they reached the table._

 _"Hurry back," her voice low and husky, lip worried between her teeth, her porcelain skin flushing crimson she turned away and started gathering their things. Before, he was intrigued. Now, completely perplexed. Running through every possible scenario for her perceived behavior, the only conclusion he could come to was the absolute last thing that could happen. He shook off the thoughts that now assaulted his senses, stealing one last glance at his girlfriend, who was whispering conspiratorially with Lilly. He swallowed hard and continued on._

 _Logan walked up behind his parents, to the casual observer they appeared simply to be talking, but there was a reason for their wealth. Their act, happily married, doting parents, philanthropists… expertly blocked and performed, were the only roles the Echolls played well. On stage, Lynn had shone, but the lights of Hollywood burned brighter and left her coolly in the shadows. This USO tour was her chance, back in the spotlight while doing something worthwhile, if the barbiturates and gin hadn't destroyed her ability to feel, she was sure she'd be happy. Aaron had desperately needed a dose of good publicity, and this was better than what he could have hoped for. Neither had seemed to care they'd be leaving their son for at least six months, with the likely hood they'd just go again and miss his entire senior year. Logan couldn't wait. Sure, he'd be forced to endure Trina's presence, but he knew she'd stay in LA over Neptune. He'd be eighteen soon enough and then he could do…what? The little voice that had been pecking at the back of his subconscious since their interaction with the Squiddies earlier was growing louder, but he had enough focus to drown it out. At the moment._

" _Mom, Dad," Logan said respectfully as his parents turned to face him. "Ronnie's beat, I think we're going to head back to the house." Lynn smiled and nodded, Aaron studied his son a moment longer before waving over a few photographers._

" _One last photo opportunity, son," if he noticed, Aaron ignored Logan's physical recoil from the word. "There's something I wanted to give you, seeing as we won't be around for a while." He paused and waited for the cameramen to get set up, reporters with pen posed hands lingering on baited breath gathered and he resumed his contrived performance as patriarch. "Logan, your mother and I wish we didn't have to leave, but our country needs us all now, and this is the best way we can give back!" His smile was wide, teeth gleaming against the flashbulbs, making Logan hyper aware that everyone had joined to watch the scene unfold. He hated these forced interactions with the press, especially since he was always supposed to play the gracious and loving child. He was as skilled an actor as his parents, he came off as affectionate and congenial, the American teenage dream._

" _It's a small price to pay to support our boys. I'll be in good hands." His eyes locked with Veronica's, he could see her breath catch as her smile reached her eyes._

" _Indeed," he followed Logan's gaze to Veronica and impatiently cleared his throat, forcing his son's attention back to him. "Which is why we thought it was best to have something…reliable," It was then Logan noticed the object in Aaron's hands, flashes reflecting off the keys as he pressed them into Logan's hand. He looked at his father in astonishment, he looked back in smug superiority. For a moment Logan faltered, he almost let himself believe this was more than just a staged moment._

" _You're giving me the Phantom?" He recovered quickly, mega-watt smile plastered on his face as he embraced his father and mother tightly. He tuned out the questions people were shouting out around him, wanting nothing more than to grab his girl and get out of the now over-crowded room. People slowly dispersed, Logan thanked his parents again, trying to get away from them quickly. His mother's vacant eyes took him in as best they could, she kissed him on the cheek and walked away. Aaron took his son's hand and held it firm._

" _Now I know you think my being gone will be the best thing that ever happened to you, but you'll do good to stay out of trouble. I have eyes…and fists, if need be, everywhere. " Logan tensed, knowing anything there were more than a few people who would act on Aaron's authority if they saw the opportunity. He shuddered but forced his eyes to keep his fathers, since he was taller too, it seemed to calm him a bit knowing that Aaron had to physically look up to him._

" _Gee, dad, it's nice to know what you really think of me." He pulled his hand away from his father and stepped away._

 _"Now son," Aaron started tersely._

" _I promise, it's something you won't have to worry about. I'm getting the limo for the gang and I'm taking Veronica home. I'll see you tomorrow." He called over his shoulder, refusing to turn back, to see the anger coloring his features. Oh, it would be bad when they got back to Neptune. The petite blonde in front of him made it worth it, though, her hair was starting to escape its bobby pinned confines, makeup softened and smudged by the night of dancing and stolen kisses. She jumped when his arms came from behind, but quickly snuggled back into him, breathing in the musky spice that was simply Logan._

" _Are we going now?" He offered his arm as he moved from behind her, she simply linked her arm in his as he nodded. He told Lilly the car would be around to get them in an hour, she merely raised her eyebrows and smirked._

" _An hour, Echolls? Why, whatever do you plan on doing with our incorruptible Veronica Mars?"_

"Oooh, c _orruption? I like the sound of that." It was Veronica who turned to wink at Lilly. Neither saw the look of abject delight and shock that stole over her face._

" _I, um, hope this is okay. I mean, us being here alone..I..I don't want you to think I'm a cad," he finally stopped stammering and looked at her. For the first time all night, all day…days, it was just the two of them. No well-intentioned, albeit overbearing friends, no parents, siblings or housekeepers, and Logan Echolls was at a complete loss. Nothing stood between taking his beautiful girl up to his room, except his decency and unqualified fear for Keith Mars. Since day one of their friendship, it was to be understood, that if harm of any kind were to come to Veronica, it would be repaid in kind. He took another shaky breath. The night had taken a toll on Logan's nerves. Between the heated confrontations, which had been playing on a loop in his head all night, to the shameful display of parenting Aaron and Lynn had performed for their ever adoring audience._

" _Lo? Is everything okay?" She closed the distance between them in quick steps, her fingers gently pushing his gelled hair out of his eyes. He looks, deflated, but smiles sweetly when he meets her eyes._

" _Yeah, doll face, you're here. How could anything not be okay?" And then she was kissing him. Savagely. Desperately. With fervently returned savagery. He could feel his suit jacket sliding down his arms, he let it hit the floor as his suspenders slipped off as well. "Ronnie…" he breathed between kisses, never taking his hands off her waist, keeping her flush to him. "What are we doing?" she stopped abruptly and looked at him, flushed, shame-faced and absolutely enchanting._

" _Logan. The world is…absolute chaos. I have no idea what the next few years, months, days, hours, will hold," her voice cracked slightly, he watched as she tried to organize her thoughts, her brow only furrowed like that when she was listing. "I want every day of my life to be special, each moment and memory what I want. I know you, so much better than you think, I've seen your cogs turning all night…you, too, and have future brain. And I'm tired of only thinking and never acting." She traced his cheekbones, down his jawline, across his lips and smiled. "The only important thing in my future, is you, Logan, because no matter what I choose to do, or how I choose to do it, you're by my side. And unless this is not what you want," she paused and took a breath. "I don't want to waste any more of this precious time alone." He nodded in acquiescence, capturing her mouth again before lifting her bridal style and carrying her off to his room._

 _It was a beautiful night, not warm enough to swim, but with a blanket or two, the large chaises around the pool were perfect for cuddling._

" _So," Logan started. For the last twenty minutes or so he'd been trying to stop looking so damned happy. It was impossible. They both wore matching grins, their new intimacy making it difficult to stop touching one another. Logan couldn't stop touching Veronica's hands, entwining his fingers with hers, kissing each of them, bringing them to his face…it was as if each caress were new again, and he planned on a night of continued firsts. "Where did that come from? Not that I'm complaining…" she blushed, the feel of his body against hers burned into her sense memory. "I just never thought, I mean we had never talked about it…and I don't want you to think that I, expected this in any way, shape or form. I just wanted to show you off to the world," his voice hovering just above a whisper. "No one should be this lucky, Vee. Why am I so lucky?" He pressed his forehead against hers. "I don't deserve you." The tears that she'd tried to bite back flowed freely now, concern and confusion lacing Logan's features._

" _I think I'm the lucky one. Look at you Echolls, you are a catch. I know you're not perfect, and neither am I, and I know you think that your scars make you weak, but I promise you that's not the case. You have so much light, so much love, you will do great things in this world Logan Echolls."_

" _Only if you're with me. I can barely tie my own shoelaces without assistance Veronica, how will I get through this life without you telling me what to do?" She laughed as she curled up to his side, tucking her face into his neck._

" _I don't think you have to worry about that, I have no intention of letting you go." For a fleeting moment, the thought of permanence struck terror in Logan's heart. Nothing good lasted. Not in his world. And he'd already been tempting the fates by loving Veronica as long as he had without anything catastrophic to come along and derail it. He was terrified that by giving into their baser, physical desires they'd opened Pandora's Box and that the only perceived evil to escape could haunt them in a way they were ill prepared to handle. But as usual, Veronica had surprised him, by having clearly given this some thought and taken on the responsible role, wanting there to be no chance for regret._

" _I do have one question," he remarked casually. "While I totally appreciate your, um, preparation in regard to tonight's unscheduled events," she blushed slightly and he continued. "What brought it on? We never talked about it, and while it was clearly the best thing that has ever happened in my life, I just kinda want to know…why now?" She rolled on her side, propping herself on her elbow, he quickly mirrored her, now face to face._

" _I've thought about if for a while. Lilly, as I'm sure you're aware doesn't abide sexual repression. She's too hep for her own good, but at least, she's smart about it. We talked at length, and then we went to see her doctor who provided me with the most absolutely terrifying literature, and I was much less sure than I had been going in. But she did give me some condoms, so I knew that if I was ever sure, I'd be ready." The smile on his face was absolutely blissful to her. He radiated happiness, his love shone unreservedly just for her. "Lo, my world is about to go sideways," She whispered._

" _What are you talking about, Ronnie?" His brow creased in confusion._

" _My dad's enlisting. He's leaving in the spring for training," she bit back the tears, she'd already cried for this once, she couldn't do it again. Not so soon, not when she was so happy._

" _Oh, doll," he said wrapping her in his arms. "I wish I could tell you it'll be okay…" he felt her head move up and down against his chest, they both knew there were no words. "This does mean that there will only be one parent supervising us for the next year," his voice slipped half an octave, "And we both know for a fact that Lianne is far less pragmatic than Keith." His fingers lazily trailed up and down her spine making her shiver in the cold night air. This is how their friends found them when they made their way back from the gala._

" _Well, well, well…" Dick started, a smirk planted firmly on his lips. "Looks like we missed the real party, kiddos." Mac proceeded to elbow him in the ribs when she noticed the blush creeping up Veronica's neck._

" _Ladies, it's time to change out of these beautiful gowns and get into something a bit more, comfortable," Lilly drawled, pointedly looking at Wallace who tried to be nonchalant but was loving every second of Lilly's advances. They'd met through Veronica, who had had a few classes with Wallace after his family had moved from Chicago. His mother, Alicia Fennell, aka Lettie Rosemont, was a jazz singer, a headliner catching the eye of an up and coming real estate developer. He wanted to open a club in Neptune, with the demographics constantly shifting and the more liberal Hollywood types settling in, he knew it would thrive. And thrive it did. The band was constructed to have the best horns of any on the west coast, and their leader, Mr. Carter Edmunds, made sure Sugar Blue was the most happening place Balboa County had ever seen. The gang had gone in for one of their youth dances and were blown away by the power of the music and energy the crowd exuded. When Veronica recognized Wallace and invited him over to join them, he was ecstatic. The group offered no resistance or hesitation, simply willing him to be part of their circle, the color of his skin a non-issue to them. That had been two years ago, and while his new friends parents had a decidedly harder time accepting him, they never regretted bringing him in. He was one of them, and would forever be._

" _So boys, how were the rest of your evenings?" Wallace looked to Dick, then to Duncan, each of them shrugging, leaving whatever was to be said to Wallace._

" _Everything was on the beam until we were getting ready to leave. We were walking out to the limo, and those Anchor Clankers were on the sidewalk, waiting for a cab or something. They started saying stuff to the girls, so we got them into the limo but they wouldn't stop jabbering on. That J.B. cat, just wouldn't stop, man. It started with how all our girls must be paid by the hour because there was no way we could have such dishes. Then he started to say some pretty nasty things about Vee, and you. I swear if your dad hadn't come out when he did I might have ended up in jail." He shook his head in disbelief, he was so good about not letting people get under his skin, but that guy just hit every hot button Wallace Fennell had._

" _You know we wouldn't have let that happen, Wally," Dick said sincerely. "Besides, that guy would have deserved a broken nose or worse for what he said about you, Lo." Duncan was the only one watching Logan's expression, he knew what they'd said earlier struck a serious chord in Logan, Duncan knowing full well how money clouded every perception._

" _So spill Logan!" Duncan broke in attempting to diffuse the situation, noticing the tension wafting from Logan's direction. "Did an hour give you enough time, or did we interrupt whatever salacious plans you had for our dear Veronica?"_

" _Yeah, what were you and Ronnie up to? You look positively slack happy."_

" _You know Dick, at this very moment, I am," He laughed mirthlessly. "It won't last, though. It never does," he added somberly. He hadn't noticed Veronica come back out on the patio, nor could he see the little piece of her heart that broken for him reflected in her eyes, and for that she was grateful. All she could do now is help him realize he was deserving of lasting happiness, and she would do her damnedest to see it happen._

23 September 1945

Morning came much too early to Veronica Mars. She had tried, in vain, to drown the thoughts that reverberated through her head. But it was impossible. The half-drained bottle lie in the sink, she'd not been able to bring herself to drink his memory out of her head. She'd done that before, and the tears still came, and so did the dreams. The hope was always that she'd pass out before the barrage resumed, but she was left with the flickering images, film reel ticking off the last seconds of how everything was before it spectacularly fell apart. She could hear the ocean in the distance, waves pummeling the shore with the ferocity that accompanied storms. There would be no sunrise this Sunday morning. She sighed loudly and resigned herself to face the gray day that lies ahead.

Most days she could pass the door without too much thought, today was not going to be one of those days. She opened the door like she did every so often and stepped into the room that had been occupied by Logan when he'd lived here. Some days she cursed Lynn Echolls for guilting her to stay here, and others she was so thankful to be surrounded by things that reminded her of what she had loved. She had a feeling that today would lie somewhere in the middle. The lack of visible sunrise would make her mood dour, regardless. Sunday mornings, back when they were kids and carefree, they'd get up early and picnic on the beach and watch the sunrise. Dick and Logan would surf while Duncan and Wallace kicked a soccer ball around. The girls talked while crocheting, or reading, or if you were Mac, working out complex mathematical equations. They were an opus of contradictions, fitting together brilliantly against all odds. She missed the rest of her puzzle.

Eventually making her way into the kitchen, she could hear the steady rain beating down the terrace steps. The informal dining area was all glass, the beach lying beyond the flagstone patio, obscured by the torrent. She wondered if Lilly would call today, she'd be gone back to school nearly a month and they hadn't been able to catch up much. Sighing, she looked around. It was still sparse, all the furniture from her parents' home (what she hadn't had to sell off), barely made a dent in the expansive Prairie style house she had taken to call home. It made cleaning easier, that and she only ever seemed to use the three same dishes and pans, all of her earthly possessions could have fit in the kitchen. It was one of her conditions and Lynn happily obliged, leaving Logan's room completely untouched, however. She had also insisted on the Rolls staying, as it was Logan's. Veronica was helpless to do anything but oblige. Opening the cupboards, she extracted what she needed and began her first task of the day.

"I know it's been a while since I stopped. It's been a rough couple of months…but I got some really good news, and you were the first…well, second, person I had to share it with. My dad's coming home. By Christmas he says. I miss him so much," she sniffled and wiped her eyes gingerly, trying not to muss the makeup she'd put on. "I just hope he's not disappointed in me, I never could stand to see that look in his eyes. I swear that's all I saw before he left, and no, he never actually said he was disappointed, I could just feel it. Why did things have to go to shit? Logan was right, why would anything good stay?" She swallowed down the tears that welled in her eyes. She had actually said his name out loud. That hadn't happened in a long time, she shook it off and placed a hand on the cool granite in front of her. "I miss you." Her voice a mere whisper as her eyes took in the name emblazoned on the headstone.

Clifford Hamilton McCormack

Capitan US Army Bastogne

17 July 1903 - 29 December 1944

Those who want to reap the benefits of this great nation must bear the fatigue of supporting it. Thomas Paine

He was the second person her father had befriended in Neptune, and she took to calling Uncle Cliffy almost immediately. He and his wife were estranged, divorce was the biggest no-no in southern California, but she had been shaken to her core by his passing. He died heroically, or so they said, but Veronica just assumed they said that about everyone…because it was true. They were all heroes in their own right. And she had two more on her list to see today.

"Please, please, please tell me those are snickerdoodles!" Wallace exclaimed as he opened the door. She graciously presented the tin to him and entered the apartment behind him. "Dickie! We got a visitor…and treats!" Dick Casablancas lost a leg on D-Day. He still managed his easy smile and temperament but there was a dull ache in his eyes. Some days he didn't have the patience for anyone, his prosthetic would give him trouble or he'd have been up in the throes of a flashback, he was downright surly to anyone who tried to help. Wallace was the only one he let help. He had fought too. And while they didn't get a chance to serve with one another, the bonds of war had made them brothers. Veronica loved that at least once a week she'd get to see them, more pieces floating near one another, not connecting in the way they were meant to but at least, they were close.

"Hey Ronnie," Dick said quietly, taking his first cookie and savoring it. "Any news on your front?"

"As a matter of fact…Dad should be home by the end of the year. Or so his letters say." They both smiled, Dick's waning only slightly when he added the next bit.

"Still nothing from Lo…"

"No," she cut him off abruptly. She could not go back down that path today. She wanted to focus on the now, her friends who were with her still…the ones whose faces were real in front of her. Not the ghost of yesterday haunting her dreams. She plastered on a smile and spent the rest of the day with the boys, trying to find some semblance of normalcy.


	3. The Flip Side

This chapter came unexpectedly, I had been asked a couple of times about Logan's perspective and hadn't intended on writing it like this. But, as with most things, this popped into my head and I had to give it a go. All of your reviews and follows mean the world, so, keep 'em coming! Oh yeah, I don't own any of the characters, etc., etc. And if you're feeling up to it, take a listen to Bing Crosby's "Where the blue of the night (meets the gold of the day)", it was pretty much the catalyst for this interlude.

28 October 1945

The sunset did not hold the same appeal as the sunrise. At least not to Logan Echolls. Sunsets reminded him of when things went wrong, how everything that was seemingly bright and hopeful could be diminished, snuffed out by despondence, dark and inky like the night. He kicked at the sand. He hated that it was the same ocean he loved, he hated that he was still on the other side of it, but he was thrilled to be alive, to feel any of those things. He took a deep breath. And another when he'd realized his breathing turned ragged. He tried to focus on the sound of the waves, lapping listlessly against the shore. Willing his mind to recall the brilliant hues of home, the sun rising magnificent, all gold and roses against the cerulean Pacific. The scent of the ocean tinged by Soir de Paris, blonde hair tickling his nose. The tremor in his leg stilled and his breathing evened out. It was how he got through the nights, at least, the bad ones, and there had been more of those lately. He imagined what it would have been life if he hadn't left, the life he could be living, the only person who loved him, wholly. He shook the thought from his mind. Surely she'd moved on to someone who had deserved her, who deserved her love. He knew the reality, though. No one would ever love him better than her.

* * *

 _23 May 1942_

 _"Lo! Please, just slow down!" She grabbed at his arm, but he was moving too fast and with too much purpose, she stumbled as he slipped from her grip. He heard the impact of her body hitting the ground and turned immediately toward her._

 _"Ronnie," he said quietly as he rushed to her side. He knelt down and scooped her up, arms clasping around his neck as her head tucked into the crook of his neck. He reverently kissed her forehead as he walked them back towards the Grand. Setting her on the sidewalk, he left his arms to encircle her waist as she refused to let go of his neck. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, though not from her fall, and his grip tightened. It was all he could do not to wipe the offensive tears from her cheeks, the ones streaking her perfect makeup, the ones breaking his heart into millions of pieces._

 _"What's going on with you, Logan?" she said in a voice barely above a whisper, eyes boring directly into his soul._

 _"I'm leaving," he looked away from her for a moment, knowing she'd never believe what he told her, but knowing he had to lie. It was the only way. He had to do this. For her. "I'm going to join my parents, or well, I'm going to spend the summer on the tour and then I'm going to finish school at Wycliffe." The words fell from his lips at breakneck speed, he wasn't even sure he'd said all he wanted then when he noticed her arms disengage their hold, and the tears she'd tried to hold at bay, fell steadily down her face._

 _"You're leaving?" She took a step back, his hands refusing to relinquish their hold on her waist. She tried to twist out of his grasp, his large hands held her rooted to the spot. "How can you leave me, too? Am I not enough?" her broken cry pulled him from his thoughts, wrapping his arms tightly around her, rubbing slow circles on her back. He knows this will make it worse, letting go is something he has never been good at. His strong, confident Veronica weeping openly in arms, on the sidewalk in front of their Prom makes him want to take back everything he said. Deny any inadequacies, be a better man by staying, he knows he'd fail. He'll never deserve her if he stays, he wants to earn her love, wants to be worthy. "This is because of those stupid navy boys, isn't it? The ones from the party?" Indignation replaced her sadness in an instant. She was fire personified, angry, incensed, and radiant. She'd moved beyond his reach, arms wrapped around herself so she didn't fall to pieces in front of him._

 _"No, Veronica, it's not like that," he tried, she knew him so much better than that._

 _"Fuck you, Logan," she spat as he winced. "Are you not joining up? Do you not feel like you have something to prove, now, like you owe some kind of recompense for being born wealthy? Spoiled prince with a death wish, perhaps?" Her words cut, she held nothing back. The hole she had reinforced and steeled at her father's departure burned._

 _"Please, Ronnie," his voice was soft but harsh, tears of his own bristled on his lashes. Her hands cautiously smoothed the lilac bodice of her gown as she dropped her arms to her sides, resigned. She stepped towards him, not trusting herself to say anything if she so much as opened her mouth she was done for. What heartbreak would pour from her lips, she was sure she'd beg him to stay, but if he could so easily walk away from her…she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Yet, he was instinctively prepared for the onslaught that never came. She placed a single hand on his shoulder, only for balance as she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. She was letting him go. And he was furious. There were supposed to be grand declarations, sweeping promises, assurance that the reunion would be, epic. She was supposed to understand this was for her. It was then he noticed the tremble of her lip as she pulled away from him, how quickly the façade began to crumble. The realization hit Logan just as she neared the end of his reach. "Veronica, you have to know how much you mean to me," she stopped but didn't turn. "I can't explain the why's and how's, I just know it's something I have to do, but please don't think it's because I want to leave you," her back constricted and chest heaved forcefully, but she remained silent. "I have to do this, Ronnie. For me. Maybe it is to prove something. To prove that I'm really worth whatever it is you see in me, or that I deserve even of a fraction of the life I have, but no matter the reason for going, you're the only one I have for coming back."_

 _In an instant, she was in his arms. The kiss was passion incarnate. All tongues and teeth, hands reverently remembering the others form, tears wet on cheeks, raw and real. Veronica seemed to remember her decency first, breaking the kiss quickly, again stepping out of his embrace. She nodded softly, he wasn't sure what she'd been acknowledging, but he took it as her blessing._

 _"I love you, Veronica Mars."_

 _"Goodbye, Logan." She turned and walked back through the main doors at the Grand. The wind blew a chill through him and he realized the sun had nearly dipped beneath the waves. It tried desperately to hang out, it's smoldering red hues blistered through the deep purples of the night, the harder the warmer tints fought, the more wholly the night swallowed them up. He was thankful by the he got to the Phantom that the sun succumbed to its fate, and swallowed down the remaining symbolism his mind was contemplating. It took all he had not to turn back every block, to take her in his arms again and never let go. He had gotten this far, he reminded himself. He had one task checked off his list, the next two were cake, and by morning, he'd be in San Diego._

* * *

28 October 1945

"Can you believe it, Ax? Another week and we're shipping the fuck up, and headed the fuck home!" Logan's pensive smile was obscured by his glass, the foamy, the nearly stale beer tasted like freedom. They'd spent the last few hours savoring the mere act of living, drinking down the swill with gusto. 'Home' kept echoing in Logan Echolls mind. He had no idea what he'd be going back to, he hadn't ever allowed himself to think that he'd really make it back, to have the chance to prove who he'd wanted to be. The thought of Veronica, waiting, opened arms when he got back after the war had gotten him through basic. He had known then it was foolish, she would hate him. He hated him. Cowardly, he ran away from her. From their future life together, she'd started talking more and more about. It wasn't that he didn't want it too because he did. He hadn't known affection, hadn't known that being angry with someone didn't have to result in violence, hadn't known a thing about life, before being pulled into the vortex that was Veronica Mars. He sighed heavily, downing the now warm pint. "I think, the first thing I'm going to do..." Bill Ward looked around, making sure he had the attention of the rest of his section, "is find me a nice filly to break in." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning more than a few groans from his fellow Marines. "I'm not talkin' about marryin' the first dame I see stateside, I'm just sayin', after all, this…I want something permanent. Something mine. I assumed yinz would get it." He huffed.

"Maybe, then, you shouldn't compare courting your future missus to breaking in a willful horse. Some of us have respect for women, and not just the ones who birthed us." Gunnery Sargent Albert Stokes chastised gently. These boys, _**men**_ , he reminded himself, had left their lives right after high school…and some surely before then, they knew nothing about how to go home. No one depended on them, their families missed them but they knew little more love than that. A few of his older charges, himself, and the young man sitting quietly at the end of the bar, he suspected, were better versed in its bitter sting and divine beauty. And while he knew that Lonnie Ackles didn't have children waiting for his return, a stack of unsent letters made it clear there was someone he'd left behind. Ax, as he was known, was one of his finest Marines. He'd come out of a few less than favorable scrapes, and while he was tactically smart, he had a tendency to jump into situations that usually required more than a little foresight. How he had missed being skewered by that bayonet, constantly replayed in Stokes mind. And he was sure that all those letters would have hit the post the next day, but there they sat in his footlocker, growing by one each and every week.

Logan had stopped listening long before Gunny spoke. He had been stuck in his head all day. He'd managed, mostly, to keep the thoughts at bay, they'd only been sneaking into his subconscious by dreaming. But tonight, with the fourth now empty glass in front of him, he knew there was no turning it off.

The bar on the small island was packed with servicemen, Marines and sailors, all waiting to be shipped somewhere, most back to Japan or staying in the islands during the occupation. Occasionally Logan was brought out of his reverie by one of his squad mates, reminding him of this battle or that, or congratulating his being sent home with another round. He'd be too drunk soon. Not that he minded, it had been a long time, and he had a pass this weekend, but he wanted to watch the sunrise in the morning. He hadn't had the chance to enjoy it since before he left home, and the few he'd seen during his deployment weren't the romantic backdrops whose memory assaulted his senses. It also didn't help that the jukebox seemed hell bent of reminding him of Neptune with each and every song it crooned. Surely that could be said of everyone in the joint, he reminded himself. Then it was suddenly hot. Too hot, even for the overcrowded, thatch-roofed hovel on the beach of remote South Pacific island, and it was always, always hot. It was then he recognized the melody, the smooth timbre that could only be Bing, and the song that seemed to still every lonely heart on the island. The bars raucous fervor shifted behind the song, everyone singing to the loves they left at home, who were dutifully (hopefully), awaiting their return. Logan sucked in a deep breath, a vision of his own blonde haired, blue-eyed beauty floated in front of his eyes before crowd swelled with the chorus again. He had to get out of there.

"Fucking Bing Crosby," he muttered to himself as the night air hit his fevered skin. It was equally hot outside and the sound carried down the steps and onto the beach. "Where the blue of the goddamned night…of all fucking songs." He pulled on his cover, hastily making his way down the beach, away from his platoon's prying eyes, his fatigues disappearing into the haze.

He was halfway through his third imagined welcome home scenario, this one included running into a newly married Veronica, and her laughing in his face when he declared his love. The first two hadn't been so bad in comparison, if only he could recall those images to mind, he wouldn't be sitting on a beach, half a world away, crying into the surf.

"Everything alright, son?" A voice questioned from behind. Logan hastily wiped his eyes and stood to face the interloper. He noticed the man wore blues, his naval garb clean and pressed, he must have been part of the latest crew to embark the island. Brushing the sand off his uniform, he'd managed to keep his eyes down knowing it'd be pretty easy to tell how drunk he was, and this close to home he didn't want to risk tenure in the brig.

"Yeah, just fine," he replied shakily. It was dark enough, there was no way he could tell Logan assured himself. As he looked up, and his eyes adjusted to the figure in the dim light, he felt his stomach turn to lead. "Oh shit," was all he could muster.

"Good to see you too, Logan." It was the first time in years he'd heard his own name said aloud, and while it was reserved, it held no disappointment or malice. The tears returned abruptly to Logan's eyes as they took in the man standing in front of him. He had aged considerably. War has that effect on people, but behind the weathered skin and hardened veneer, the light still shone brightly behind Keith Mars' eyes. He held open his arms, and Logan tentatively stepped into them, breaking every remaining wall he had erected with the contact.

"Thanks, Mr. Mars," was all he could muster for the man who he had always admired, whom he wished was his own father, who he still hoped just might accept him as his own one day. Their embrace was short, after the tremendously emotional onset, but it served to put a piece of Logan firmly back in its place. He knew in that instance it had all been worth it, that while maybe it hadn't just yet, it would all come together. And for once, time was on his side.


	4. Realization Dawning

**This chapter is pretty heavy. I'm aware it's all pretty heavy, but this just seems worse. Anyway, to all who have reviewed and followed, I thank you! Your feedback means so much, so please keep it coming! They are not mine, not a single one. Sigh. This chapter brought to you by our dear friend...Glenfiddich ;)**

12 November 1945

"So," Logan started, his hands trembled slightly as he blew steam from the hot cup of what passed for coffee on the _USS Gordon_. He and Keith hadn't spoken since the beach the week before, both swept away in small transports to Inchon, Korea before setting the course home. He leaned against the bulkhead, avoiding the slew of discharged men playing games and retelling the same war stories in the overcrowded mess. "I assume by now you've figured out that I did not go to Europe with my parents, not that Ronnie believed I was for a second, but I don't know what she would have told you or Mrs. Mars," Keith's mouth tightened at the mention of his wife, eyes flickering with a sadness that Logan couldn't place. Logan had figured he might as well divulge the whole story, regardless of whether or not Veronica had told him, it would do him good to finally say the words out loud to someone else. Over and over those words, uttered in a drunken, jealous slur, haunted his sleep, goaded him into more than one sticky situation Veronica would have been livid about, had she known. He told Keith about those, too. Before he could stop it, he was talking about Lynn, her dependencies on all things mood-altering, and since he'd already gone that far…he decided he'd tell him about Aaron and his hatred of leather "There's this sensation, it's something that never goes away. As soon as I smell leather, I'm raw, like the first hit ever. It's permeated my sense memory and I will never escape it. Blood, adrenaline, the taste of my tears, the sound, and the goddamn smell of leather. And I enlist in the Marines, a fucking leatherneck! I'm a glutton for punishment, I guess."

Keith watched the young man's disaffected stare refocus on him as his nervous fidgeting subsided. He shifted his weight and ran a weary hand across his eyes, the full impact of Logan's abuse hit him harder than he thought it would given the past few years he'd lived through. He managed to hide the tears that crept their way into his eyes, but clapped his hand on Logan's shoulder, gripping tightly as if to reassure him he wasn't alone anymore. Keith had managed to hear a few tales about 'Ax' before they were ushered to Korea, and a few more now they'd settled a bit on the ship. The consensus was he was well liked and highly respected. There were more than a few stories of how he managed to thwart the gods and survive. According to several men in his platoon, Ax had saved their lives, and probably the lives of many more, but he never lauded praise, he was humble. Cocky, they assured to Keith's amusement, but humble.

"Sounds like you had a tough choice to make, son," Keith noticed the corner of his lip twitch into the smallest semblance of a smile. "And as much as I should be angry with you, for breaking my daughter's heart and leaving her…" he stopped before he finished his thought. Knowing that there had been zero communication between Logan and Veronica meant that he didn't know Lianne had left, nor did he know about the Aaron incident, which after hearing Logan's admission made much more sense. It's also where all the anger that resided in Keith was redirected. He sighed and continued. "I just can't seem to muster it. I'm very, very happy you're alive, Logan. And alive you shall remain until we get stateside of course." He said winking at Logan's perplexed look. "Oh, Veronica…she's going to fucking kill you." And the fear that clouded Logan's eyes cleared and he laughed, from his belly, so deep he was left gasping for air.

Keith told Logan about his time at sea, and Logan gave up the truth behind the stories. Turns out they were far less exaggerated than Keith expected. He replayed, with a modicum of detachment, where he'd been and what had happened. He didn't divulge in his personal glories, just that he felt like he'd been lucky. Lucky, from what Keith had heard from Gunny, was an understatement. There was a particular incident when they had arrived in the Solomons where Logan and the business end of a bayonet became intimately acquainted. His first purple heart, the gunnery sergeant stated. The something happened on Peleliu, Keith heard from some of the others, though none would say exactly what. Only that it was bad, hellish, in fact. And as a direct result of whatever it was that occurred, 'Ax' was promoted to Platoon Sergeant. They also credited his leadership and surprising tactical strategy, for keeping more of them alive on Iwo Jima than should have been. He also earned a Purple Heart there. So, it was two, at least. And he'd probably a hundred more accolades for bravery and service than Keith would ever know about.

"Logan," Keith shook his head, trying to find words that didn't seem hollow and cheap, to convey the pride he had for the young man sitting before him. "I may not have been the biggest supporter of yours and Veronica's relationship, but it was never because I didn't like you or think you were good enough for her. No one wants to see their baby slipping away from them. I had hoped I'd have a few more years where I was the only man she wanted in her life, but when you came waltzing down the west coast, I knew I was a done for." Logan's mouth broke into a shy smile, the reservation that earlier exuded melted away completely.

"Mr. Mars, I have never thought it possible to love, like I love her. I mean, you've met my parents, they loved in front of an audience, but when it was gone, there was no warmth or affection, just the blanket concern for well-being. I was conceived and raised as a pawn for the press," He spat vehemently, taking a sip of his now tepid coffee, trying to push the anger back down. He didn't need it anymore, or them, but he swore his scars burned at the very thought of his father. With slow, deep breaths and thoughts of a distinct California sunrise, he continued. "I left, in part to escape them, that life they had 'blessed' me with. But it was a fucking joke. When I was a kid, in New York I got into all sorts of trouble. For all the glamor and bright lights of Broadway, it's much easier to get swept up in the nefarious goings on behind the curtain. From drink to drugs to dames, you name it…they get it. And mom got me out before I got too deep." His smirk had resurfaced, Keith had noticed though there was a bit of embarrassment in the young man's eyes.

"So that's how you ended up in Neptune?" Logan nodded. "Veronica had always said it was because your parents wanted in the pictures."

"That was part of it," he admitted. "Aaron wanted to do film, my mom always loved the stage more, but when she saw what I was starting to do, she thought a nice change of scene couldn't hurt," He remembered that conversation with his mother so vividly. He expected to feel awash in her disappointment in him, but she was more concerned about their public image and how Logan had to try and be better, or less visible if he continued to act foolishly. Be better, he thought automatically. At eleven, he'd had his first epiphany. You are not these people, and nowhere does it say, that just because they're your family, means you have to be anything like them. A new start, yes, a new life. He agreed to the move under one condition. "I had grown up surrounded by concrete. The sweltering pavement in the summer, cold, glass, and steel in the winter, grey always. I wanted sun and sand. I only ever felt real when there was sand between my toes and saltwater in my hair. The Atlantic is great, it's vast and expansive, in these deep, cool blues that would just swallow everything up. But the Pacific, when I saw it the first time I knew this could work. Especially since I convinced my parents that getting a house on the beach would keep me out of trouble. God, I miss that house." Keith sucked in a sharp breath, which was, fortunately, unnoticed by Logan.

"It's a nice house, Lo," he paused, he had to handle this part delicately. "Do you think your parents will be there when you get back?"

"I don't see why they would be," He said matter-of-factly. "They hated that house. A single floor? How gauche! They had no idea who Frank Lloyd Wright even was. I was adamant, and while I lost many, many battles…I took that one war. I suppose though he'll win in the end." Keith looked at Logan, the question in his eye. Logan shook his head and went to stand up.

"Logan? What is it?" Keith noticed the tremor then, his hand shaking, fingers twitching spasmodically as his breathing sped up.

"Twelve-year-old Logan wanted that house because it was on the beach," he said raggedly. "Sixteen-year-old Logan wanted that house for Veronica. When I thought of the future, I could only see us, she and I. Raising our own family there. Where our kids never questioned our love for them, or each other, where we would grow old and watch the sunrise, together." Logan didn't notice the tears that fell from his eyes, nor did he see the ones glistening on Keith's cheeks. "And I fucked it all up. I left her, and she'll hate me and she'll make that life with someone else, someone who deserves her," he remarked ruefully.

"Then why leave like you did? She would have waited for you, you had to know that."

"I didn't want her to have to. She needed the chance to see what her life would be like without all the drama I brought to it. And I needed to see if I could be the person who deserved her. I know how selfish it was, I hate that I have a hundred letters I never sent her. I hate myself enough for the both of us, but honestly, Keith, if I had known she was waiting for me to get home safe and sound, I may not have done what I needed to. People depended on me, I had objectives that had to be met and ensuring my team's safety was the priority, and it was hard enough without trying to live up to a promise I had no way of keeping." He never thought he'd come back, Keith realized and he knew without question, he had to be told.

"Logan, you're going to need to sit down and listen to me. There's a lot that's happened while you were been away proving yourself. If you want even a snowballs chance in hell reconciling with my daughter, dutifully obey. Sit down and shut up."

11 November 1945

Sunday. The surf quietly lapping at the shore as the sun began its ascent, pink and orange streaking through the lingering morning haze. A cup of coffee in hand, Veronica made her way to the patio just as the phone rang.

"Echolls residence," She answered out of habit. Anyone who was actually looking for an Echolls knew not to call there, the only calls received were for her. But she wouldn't change the number, she couldn't.

"Have you heard anything more from your dad?" the voice implored.

"I am picking him up in Los Angeles next Sunday." Veronica thumbed through the newest issue of Screenland. It had been nearly two years since any Echolls lived in the house, and yet, numerous Hollywood publications and Logan's favorite _, Architectural Digest_ , showed up once a month. Those were chronologically filed away, along with everything she had written him during his absence.

"How do you not sound more excited Veronica Mars?! You're seeing your dad for the first time in three years!" She couldn't help but laugh at her friend's exasperation.

"Lilly, I am ecstatic! I have been dancing around the house for days, I think I wore out my favorite Les Brown album."

"I take it your aloofness means you still haven't heard hide nor hair from your favorite brown-eyed fella." Veronica couldn't stop her jaw clenching at the thought of him. It's been months since the wars were declared over, and not even and hi, I'm not dead. Not to anyone. He had to know that she would want to know, that she couldn't just push him out of her mind and heart because he insisted she do so. She really hated to think of him. It just reminded her how much she loved him, and how much she just wished she hated him instead.

"You would be correct. And that's all we're saying on the matter. I have to get the master fixed up for Dad and get all the fixings for Thanksgiving. I really wish you were going to be here, Lilly. Dick, Wallace, his mom and brother, Vinnie, Dad and me, it'll be the first time a holiday has felt like one in a long, long time."

"I can be there if you want me to, Ronica, all you have to do is ask."

"No, no, spend your break with that gorgeous godchild of mine," she laughed. "I can't believe she's almost two. How is my Ruby Jo?"

"Dazzling!" she could hear Ruby giggling through the phone, the pang that shot through her heart caught her off guard. "She is into everything, but she's just the cutest and sweetest. I can't imagine my life…Oh, Ron, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"No, Lilly, you should not feel guilty about your happiness. What happened was years ago, it just wasn't meant to be." Lilly scoffed knowing there was always more to it than what Veronica told her. "But I do need to finish my coffee and get the food ready for when the boys come. I have every intention of putting them to work today, I need them fueled and ready."

"Then don't go overboard and cook everything in sight, Mars! Those boys will be full and sleeping rather than fueled and ready if you make all the food you're planning on." Veronica smiled sheepishly, knowing Lilly was absolutely right.

"Damn it," she sighed. "Alright, just a light breakfast and then lunch when the time comes, and well, cookies of course…" Lilly groaned on the other end of the phone and Veronica had to bite back her laughter. "It's like therapy Lil, I can't help it. I can control it. Cook, bake, clean, repeat. It keeps my mind from wandering."

"Alright, I'll give you that. I have lunch myself to get to, I will talk to you soon my dear."

"Have fun, Lilly. Kiss Ruby for me!"

"Always Aunt Ronnie! I love you."

"Love you Lils, bye." Hanging up the phone Veronica looked around the quiet, empty house. Would her dad want to stay here? Would she really be able to leave the only place she felt connected to Logan? She tried to shake the thoughts from her head. She had too many things to do today, dwelling on thoughts of Logan would get her nowhere but sad, fast. Quickly, she changed from her robe and gathered the cleaning and painting supplies in the empty master bedroom. When Lynn moved her and Aaron's things from the house, Veronica hadn't planned on staying long enough to imagine it occupied by her father. But she fell more and more in love with the house the longer she stayed. Each room had beautiful ocean views, but the master had a small terrace, as did Logan's room, both would need their privacy when they got back she thought when she considered taking the master for herself.

 _No, Veronica, remember it's not your house. This is temporary. Everything is temporary. If… Logan doesn't come back, Lynn will sell the house and you'll have to go. Do not get attached._

But she was attached. The memories of the life that was dreams for what could have been and the reality that she lived in now. This house was tied to all of them. And it wasn't like Lynn had actually said any of that, it was just the logical assumption. She hadn't heard from Lynn in months, hadn't even read a blip about her in those Hollywood magazines, only a few scant lines even about Aaron. And she only read them to ensure he was still far away from Neptune. She fought the lump that formed in her throat when she thought of him, the burn of bile and deep ache in her stomach accompanied every time she was reminded and today, there were tears. There was no escaping the tumult of feelings her father's return were dredging up, she just had to accept it and hope that Wallace and Dick would understand her current state.

Following Lilly's advice, Veronica only prepared enough food for breakfast. Which they ate every last bite of. She figured while the boys painted, she could make a batch or two of cookies and clean up the kitchen. The last of the cookies cooled on the counter when she noticed their voices raising.

"I'm not saying that Wallace, I'm just saying we can't ignore it anymore."

"If she doesn't ever want to talk about it, we have to be okay with that."

"No way! She makes sure we're okay, she's the only one who's been there to look out for us. How many times has she found us at the bottom of a bottle and makes sure we get home and don't choke on our puke?" Wallace rubbed a weary hand across his brow, he knew his friend was right. Dick didn't know that Wallace had tried to broach the subject once before. It ended with a string of expletives Wallace had never heard strung together before, and a mighty sharp jab in the ribs.

"Dick, I know you just want to be there for her. But we can only do that if she wants us to. We're here now, she's not falling apart again, and she's stronger now for it. How else do you think she got through with her dad and Logan being gone?" The man had a point, Dick conceded.

"I could fucking kill Logan," He muttered, only half joking. "I mean, I get it…all of it, but he could have waited and gone with us. I mean, what was another year? He could have…"

"I know, man. I know." Clapping Dick on the shoulder, Wallace turned back toward the wall, his heart heavier and mind much less at ease. He was hoping they'd have heard something from Logan by now, but no news was almost always bad news. He turned his attention back to painting, barely hearing the voice whisper behind him.

"I used to ask myself if he had known, would he have stayed? And every single time I came up with the same answer," Dick turned to face her first, the despondency in her eyes stole the air from his chest. He took a tentative step toward her, his prosthetic awkwardly catching on the drop cloth. She looked up, catching the eyes of two of her closest friends. She stepped fully into the room, taking in the light sage that now covered the walls…and the clothes and faces of Wallace and Dick. She smiled and bit back tears. She hated reliving this. If she never had to think about it again it would be too soon, the deeper it stayed buried the better. "He would have never left. You were two of his best friends, you knew him better than that. And if he had any idea about what happened, he would have been back here so fast heads would have spun. I hate that he left me, but I could never hate him. I need him to come back, I need him to mourn. If that isn't possible, then it never happened," her voice cracked slightly, she hastily wiped away the tears that threatened, there was still so much to do.

"Veronica," Wallace said softly. "We just want you to know that we're here. You've helped put us back together, and I know it's not an easy feat."

"Call us Humpty Dumpty. Together we are all kinds of broken. Together we can put ourselves back together, again," she deadpanned, her soft smile an attempt to alleviate the intense emotions threatening to suffocate the room.

"Ronnie, when Lo hears…he'll be broken too," Dick hadn't really meant to say it. When he got home, he realized sometimes his inner monolog was very much outer, and while he worked hard to be conscience of it, highly fraught situations took him off his game. Her eyes widened as she took in the words, Dick was afraid she was going to slap him. He would have slapped himself, and the look on Wallace's face proved he wanted to slap him too.

"Then we'll have to put him back together, too. Won't we?" he could only nod as a tear leaked from his eye. Before anyone had a chance to say more, the doorbell rang. Veronica let out what can only be described as a sigh of relief, she'd already said more than she ever wanted to on the subject. "Ah, that'll be Vinnie. Excuse me, boys, I've got the great furniture migration to direct." She kissed each of them on the cheek and ran out of the room.

12 November 1945

 _USS Gordon_

He knew Keith was nearby, but he couldn't talk to him, not yet. He needed time to process what he'd been told, he'd stumbled down a few corridors seeking solitude, a place where the screams vying to escape his throat could be heard without reproach. In the boiler room, he found that solace, the place where his screams were drowned out and his tears melted with the sweat that poured down his face. He needed to hit something.

He had hoped he'd be able to heal some of his emotional scars when he got back home. Now, it was as if he had no scars, they were all fresh wounds. He made his way toward the deck. He needed air, his lungs felt like were molten lead, with each step higher it brought the pain deeper, the realization sinking into his soul. The humidity, coupled with the difficulty breathing he'd already been experiencing, knocked Logan to his knees. He crawled toward the railing and managed to release the contents of his stomach over the side of the ship. All his lessons in self-preservation heaved into the ocean to drown. There he sat, tears silently collecting on his soot-stained shirt when Keith came to sit next to him.

"How could this happen?" Logan's voice held an edge of fear Keith had never heard before.

"I don't know, son," he flinched. "But Veronica is okay now, as okay as she can be. And you need to keep it together so you can make it back to her. I can be there for her as much as I want to be, but it's you she needs." Logan looked incredulous.

"She hates me! She has to hate me! Look what I did Keith!"

"Logan. I'm going to ask you some questions. Be honest with me, okay?" he waited for the nodded approval and started. "Did you know Veronica was pregnant when you left?" The absolute horror and disgust in Logan's eyes were answer enough, the shame that crossed next assured it. "Okay, would you have left if you knew?"

"No, sir."

"Would you have done the honorable thing and marry her?"

"If that's what she wanted, yes, and if you'd have allowed me the opportunity." Keith nodded and smiled.

"I can't say I would have been happy. But eventually Logan, I would have been proud to call you son, and I would have loved that kid so much."

"Do they think…" he paused, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to this question but he had to ask. "Was there physical…damage, I mean. Will she be able to have more children, Mr. Mars?" Keith noticed the tremble that stole through his voice and looked over at the broken young man next to him.

"They don't know. There were a lot of complications, Lo, but she had the best care available. She probably would be…" Keith choked down a sob of his own. They didn't speak for a long while that night. Keith had made it clear earlier he was only telling Logan because he wasn't sure how Veronica would handle seeing him again, and he knew better than anyone that Logan was who she needed now. She refused to deal with the psychological ramifications of the accident, her body had healed and that literally had propelled her forward. The hit and run left Veronica on the sidewalk half a block away from VLM investigations. When she'd been brought in they'd noted the cracked ribs, a broken femur, and possible internal bleeding, she hadn't miscarried right away. Two days later, the bleeding started and with it, the loss of a piece of her soul. It had taken her a very long time to tell her father that she was pregnant in the first place, telling him she wasn't anymore was even harder. She threw herself into school, drowned herself in work, and spent as much time with her friends as she could before they all left at the end of the year, and then Keith was reminded she was alone. She went through that all alone.

"Is it still an open case? A hit and run?" Logan asked, after what seemed like hours.

"Ah, that daughter of mine has picked up a thing or two having a PI as a father, and I'm sure working with Vinnie for the past few years has done nothing but sharpen those skills. Apparently, your father had come back to Neptune after hearing you left," Logan's head dropped to his knees, nausea making another appearance. "She said they only spoke briefly. He wanted to know where you were, and since she claimed she didn't know, he insisted he had ways of making her talk. Unfortunately, my daughter also has a mouth on her, and I have to wonder, did she know what he did to you, Logan?"

"She did. Aside from Trina and Lynn, and some suspicious housekeepers, she was the only one. I'm pretty sure Dick and Wallace knew something, but I never outright told them. Why?"

"Your dad never crossed my mind. And if it crossed hers, she didn't tell me. After it had happened, she was too busy trying to get her life back together, if she was doing any investigating she kept it to herself. She was moving into that apartment, trying to finish her senior year, see if college would be a feasible option now. God, forgive me, and you too, but I sometimes have to wonder if it wasn't really a blessing." Finally, the words that had spun in Logan's head since he had heard had weight, he let out a ragged and relieved breath. How fucking horrible was he? He had just learned his girlfriend had lost their baby, three years ago, and of the million things he was feeling at once, relief was the strongest. She wasn't alone anymore. And if he had his way, she never would be again.

"Mr. Mars, what made you suspect my father had something to do with it?"

"Your mother, actually," Keith placed his hand on Logan's shoulder. "As soon as she heard she was in Neptune. She brought along an army of doctors, therapists, lawyers…she did everything she could to make sure Veronica was healing properly. And she ensured she was taken care of, completely. That made us both think she knew more than she was letting on. Nothing's concrete, we have no proof. Just really good instincts and a bunch of little things, like breadcrumbs, that lead back to your father."

"So, my mom is with her?" Logan could feel the hope rise slightly.

"No, son, she left after a few months, something about 'keeping up appearances'. They kept in touch for a time, I don't think she's heard from her in a while, though." He nodded.

"It's crazy how perception changes things like time. At war, a week could feel like minutes, it could feel like years, it never felt altogether real, though. Like, everything you were experiencing was some kind of fever dream and when you woke up the memories were there, but you couldn't place what came in between. A week ago I was told I was going home, and I saw you on a beach on a random island in the middle of the Pacific. Now, we're on a ship headed back to the states. And one week from now, I have to tell the love of my life why I left her, and there is not one word in any language that can justify what I did. Not after knowing what happened, fuck!"

"Well, the way I see it, you have one week to put it all out there in the open. Tell her everything. One last letter. Logan, she knows you, the real you, the one you always tried to bury under that obnoxious exterior. I can tell you until I'm blue in the face, that while you'll definitely have lots of groveling to do, she won't hate you. Eventually. She won't hate you, with time. I hated you a little bit you know when I saw you, but you quickly changed that, son. You both lost something precious, Logan, and where you're just starting to realize the magnitude, she's held it in for years. She won't break until you're there, she needs you. See to it you stay the young man you think you've become, the one she's always seen."

Logan nodded, he stood numbly and made his way toward his bunk. Thousands of voices converged on him as he entered the crowded space, men stacked four high, every inch crowded with the few things they had to bring home with them. He'd heard his name called, both of them, the dizziness taking over as he sank into his bunk and fell immediately into a dream that could never come to pass.


	5. Two if by Train

**I still lack in the ownage department, they are not mine, I'm merely borrowing them. This one took me longer to work out, so here's hoping that after far too many rewrites, this chapter is up to snuff. Thank you to everyone who follows/favorites/reviews...I love all of you :) It really is the best motivation.**

Monday 12 November 1945

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

She looked up. Seven minutes passed. Another fifteen before her meeting. Could she experience every known emotion in one week? All she could do was try…

Tuesday 13 November 1945

No office work today. After the emotional torrent of the previous day, she was thankful for that.

Every last sheet washed, hung, bed remade. Rugs were beaten, albums re-alphabetized, sinks scoured.

And when she was done, she started over.

Wednesday 14 November 1945

Lunch with the 'Rosies'; they're all waiting for someone. Since the factory closed a few more women learned their patience had been for naught. It was tense, at the very least. And holding back excitement wasn't something Veronica had to do in a long time, the restraint hurt.

Was it wrong that she only half listened as they cried? She was fairly certain she didn't care.

Thursday 15 November 1945

 _Two days. All that's standing between my dad and I are two days. Keep it together Veronica. Single digits. Two._

One week until Thanksgiving, the official start of the holiday season, and she hated it. Truthfully, it started long before November. The anxiety would come in August, physical, palpable, she would retreat into herself so deeply that by the time September came, it had passed without acknowledgment. She could still hear the squeal of tires, the sickening crunch of her leg and the thud she made when she hit the pavement. It's been three years now and it never seemed to go away, the ache resided in her soul, and for it, there was no cure. Looking at the small, ornately carved box on her vanity, her stomach turned. It held only knitted booties and a hat from Lilly and Mac, which truthfully weren't done very well as it was the first thing either had knitted. The poem Cliff had sent was framed next to it, his formal, composed hand recounting Tennyson's "Tears, Idle Tears."

It was a good thing Keith was coming back. She'd spent the last two years trying to keep herself from falling apart, and aside from the occasional quasi-catastrophic slips, she'd done a fine job of it. The last year of high school had been beyond difficult; the physical recovery, the emotional stasis, trying to catch and keep up with her classmates. She missed a great deal of school, nearly a semester. She'd been devastated when she learned she wouldn't be eligible to walk for graduation. But several of her teachers and friends took up in her defense and worked additionally with her so that her high school experience would culminate when her friends did. If the exhaustive schooling wasn't enough, she had learned to live on her own and work what were most times grueling, long nights…looking back she wasn't even sure how she'd done it, but she did. At the time, Veronica would have told you it was determination, pride and no small amount of faith, but that wasn't exactly true. Well, the pride and determination had been real, but it wasn't divine interference or sheer power of will that had gotten her through. It had been a healthy diet of denial and depression; if she didn't acknowledge it, it didn't exist and had no power. Allowing her thoughts only a moment to linger, she fixated on the task that had brought her into the bedroom in the first place.

Anxiously she fiddled through her closet looking for something appropriate to wear to the American Legion's Thanksgiving of Victory dinner. If she had known her father was coming back she would have graciously declined, but seeing as she agreed to accompany Wallace and Dick the month before, she was stuck. Groaning at her lack of options, her eyes locked on the garment bags that hung at the end. One held her prom dress, it had been in the bag since she got it back from the cleaners and hadn't been opened since. She tried to never think of prom. None of them went their senior year, opting for a low-key beach picnic that was more somber than it should have been for high school students, each knowing that the next few years of their lives were going to be dramatically different than what they had known. Duncan choosing college rather than enlistment was a rather hot button issue that night, Veronica remembered. Her eyes then flickered to next bag, the one that held the dress she wore on the night that everything changed.

Carefully, she pulled the zipper down, revealing the red lace, fingers skimmed across the neckline as she remembered the flash in his eyes when he saw her wearing it. She flushed at the memory. She was lost in her mind, thoughts of how closely he held her when they danced, of how the lace felt as he pulled it down her body, of how his skin felt…no. She shook herself free from the past's grasp as she thought, once again, about why he felt he had to leave. Logan would have had a lot of growing up to do had he stayed, she supposed, considering they would have had a baby. The more she thought about that, though, she wasn't sure. The first few, tremulous times had been fraught with cautious anxiety. They were careful. Exceptionally so. But she realized now, with great clarity, that after he'd made up his mind to go, he'd been desperate for her, for connection. It wasn't intentional and it's not as if they hadn't been safe, just not as safe as they should have been.

For some reason, that made her angrier. How long had he planned on leaving, she wondered. Could she trace back to the first time his kisses felt distressed? He had, if anything, clung to her after L.A. Up until right before the prom, when he'd suffered through a particularly savage 'lesson' from Aaron. She couldn't help the involuntary shudder that ran her spine when she thought of how he'd turned up on her steps, bruising, bleeding, broken. He cried in her arms for what seemed like hours until exhaustion finally took him over. They'd been fortunate her father had been out of town and her mother was oblivious, for neither would be able to explain his appearance without giving away his secret. Veronica had always hated that he kept it a secret. Hated that he felt weak, in any way, because his father tried to beat him into idolatry. Aaron had found some pamphlets Logan had gotten from the Army recruiter and a casual conversation about the future turned into bruised ribs and an intricately woven map of belt blows. He had apparently been lucky that his father decided his cigar was too good to waste. Who knew burning flesh sullied the taste of hand-rolled Cubans? The bile, that had burned the back of her throat for the entire month turned to fire, rage erupting from her throat in gut-wrenching agony. Her tears came freely and unchecked for the first time in years. She stumbled out of the bedroom, her red dress lying in a heap on the floor and crossed the hall into Logan's room, where she collapsed on the bed, tears staining his pillows. It was just like after graduation. The cracks had started to become visible, and the ever taut nerves holding her together frayed more and more.

It was when she was nearing the end of her tether that Lynn showed up. The vibrant young woman she once knew was a barely functioning void. Lynn only planned to be in town long enough to finish what she had set in motion the previous fall. Her house, Logan's house, the one he loved so much, was nearly sold by Aaron in a piqued tantrum. Lynn Echolls may not have been the most attentive parent, or nurturing mother as it were, but she knew Logan would never forgive the loss. The shattered girl who stood in front of her reaffirmed her intentions. She had set the house to be transferred into Logan's name upon his eighteenth birthday but hadn't been able to get back to the states until then. She had actually been on her way to hire a caretaker when she was all but physically struck by the image of Veronica, living in the house, awaiting his return. Logan would much rather come back to Veronica, Lynn knew, he would have run away long before he did had he not met her. Veronica didn't get a chance to rebuke the offer, it was settled, accounts with her name on them had been set up and before the week was out, all but Logan's things were removed, and what little she had, moved in.

If anything, the upkeep of a 4,500 square foot home ensured Veronica was always busy. If she wasn't cleaning the offices at VLM or the house, she was working at the factory. Busy hands don't allow for busy minds, she wished she could abide but it was a skill she could never master. She desperately needed a reprieve. She was supposed to have gone to see Lilly for Christmas in '43, but the Kanes hadn't allowed it. Surely that had nothing to do with her having a baby right before the aforementioned holiday, though since Celeste was adamant that no one know Lilly's condition. When Veronica had heard Lilly had a baby and she was to be her godmother, she was elated and heartbroken, but it was the first time there had been light in the darkness. She had to try harder to keep her emotions in check, but she was utterly thankful that they returned to her in the first place. They'd started talking every Sunday, Lilly would call Veronica after the sun rose over the west coast, knowing she'd be on the beach, praying to whatever it was she believed in to send her father and that stupid, stupid boy back to her. Dicks return, and then Wallace's had been a literal godsend. In her friend's recoveries, she finally found a focus for the manic energy that had been back-building. Years of exhaustive, monotonous work and excessive, compulsive, cleaning weren't able to stop Veronica's mind from getting restless. For the second time, her future looked less bleak. She wasn't alone.

The thought forced her from Logan's bed.

 _Nothing like a nervous breakdown to set the party mood. Brain, could you have done this Monday, or maybe, never?_

Wearily, she reentered her bedroom and picked her dress off the floor. Relishing the feel of the fabric for just a second more, she zipped the bag, and tucked it away, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. Plucking the closest dress from the bar, she moved on to making herself presentable for polite society. Everyone knew what happened, or well, had a version of the story they preferred better and deemed true, over actual fact. They all have the following, at least, in common: that Logan left when he found out she was pregnant. A few of the stories she had heard included a torrid affair with Lilly Kane, who also became pregnant with his love child after he left California for New York to be with her. She stopped correcting the fact he left first, they didn't care, and it was a story that would sell. As much as Logan would have hated it, he was still embroiled in Hollywood's gossip mill without even really trying to be. The few intelligent people in town knew the reality, two were waiting in the foyer, ready to face the masses.

"Well look at you Ronniekins!" Dick exclaimed. They hadn't seen her look more like her old self than she did that night. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face, eyes lined in kohl with a pop of rose on her lips. Her navy, polka dotted dress swung gracefully as she walked, a delicate sapphire sat just above the boat neck collar and she looked very much the twenty-one years she was. She just smiled and shook her head, hooking her arm through Wallace's as they walked toward the door.

"Don't worry Vee, we'll get you through tonight," he said, she squeezed his arm assuring that she knew they would. Two days.

Friday 16 November 1945

His ship is set to arrive in Tacoma. Within the span of today, he will be back, safely on terra firma, one day closer to her. Closer to home. Today the office got the full treatment. Floors gleamed. Even the filing cabinets, which had been thoroughly sorted, glinted brightly as she closed the door on another day.

 _One more day, Veronica. Get through Saturday, and you'll be home free_.

Saturday 17 November 1945

Tacoma was 1,100 miles from Los Angeles. He would have to have covered at least half by now. His train was due in at nine Sunday morning. Under twenty-four hours, nineteen and a half to be exact.

She jots some notes, file some more, scribbles incoherently on a piece of paper that neatly gets tucked into the garbage so no one can see the words that have leaked from her hand. She'll never admit that it's what always seem to happen when her nerves get the best of her. Nineteen hours and twenty-two minutes.

Absentmindedly, she begins writing Logan's name all over again.

Sunday 18 November 1945 6:15 a.m.

"No, Dick, I'm driving!"

"Wally, it's my left leg that blown off, I am still perfectly capable of driving."

"Let's not be hasty. You couldn't drive with two functioning legs, Dick. It's my car, I'm driving!" Her head tilted, slightly at first but as she noticed Dick's expression softening, the lilt became more noticeable.

"Neither of you are driving," Wallace exclaimed, tired of hearing his friends argue. It had been twenty minutes of back and forth and if they didn't get on the road soon, they'd be late, and it would just cause another argument. He took the keys from Veronica and swept his arm toward the door. With a huff, she exited, Dick grumbling behind her.

"The Stud's a great car, V, but we should take the Phantom or my Caddy. It's L.A., you know, have to rack up some points for style, you know, when the dames realize," he knocked on his prosthesis dramatically. She didn't want to acknowledge it, but she couldn't help the chortle that made its way from her throat. Dick grinned in response, getting her to laugh was a feat he tried to accomplish as often as he could, laughter did them all well, he'd concluded.

"I can't take the Phantom, it's not mine first of all," Dick raised his eyebrow in question. "It's not, it's Logan's…I mean, I suppose by that same logic the Studebaker is his too, but, I just can't, Dick. It's too, recognizable," and painful, she added to herself. That stupid car held too many memories now, and without him, it was just a shell like her. "We could take your Caddy, I mean if you really, really, wanted." She smiled out of the corner of her mouth, eyes playfully avoiding both her friends. The Cadillac was larger, presumably more comfortable as well, and if she was forced to be a passenger it was a necessity.

Before Dick could react, Wallace had reached across and grabbed the keys from Dick's hand.

"I don't care whose car we take, I'm still driving," They clambered into the vehicle and turned northward, less than three hours away from what was sure to be an emotional homecoming.

8:37 a.m.

"Veronica, will you please stop pacing," Wallace begged. He'd watched his friend work herself up from the minute they'd parked. She practically broke down when they'd gotten into the terminal and taken to pacing to keep herself distracted. The clatter of her heels on the tiled floor was setting Wallace's teeth on edge, if it wouldn't be taken totally out of context he would pin her to the wall to keep her from agitating them anymore. The boys wore their Class B's, but it did nothing to detract the stares mounting their way. They were quite an oddly matched threesome, two young service men, one clearly injured in the line of duty, flanking the frantic blonde who could not stay still to save her life.

"I can't, Wallace if I stop moving I'll probably just keel over," she said breathlessly, a million things swirling around her mind were about to tumble from her lips when the approaching trains whistle pierced the air.

"Well, Miss Mars," Dick intoned casually, "You ready to go find your father?" A genuine smile spread across her face, one she found reflected in the face of her friends as they made their way toward the platform. She would have sworn she felt every last nerve ending in her body as they moved closer to the train, the excitement was excruciating and exhilarating. With each step, she felt more of herself returning, as the reality that her father was literally just around corner struck her. She knew what he'd been through, knew he had been shaken more than he would let on, and she was so grateful for the opportunity to be able to help him back to normalcy.

The uniformed men and their crying families were suffocating every available space on the platform. Dick and Wallace being significantly taller than Veronica, were leading her through the crowd, directing them nearer the train when she heard her name called out. Slowly, she turned toward the sound and found her father, in a sea of blues and tans, holding his arms out to her. She ran into his embrace full speed, leaving Dick and Wallace to gape after her.

"Oh Veronica," Keith cried. "I have missed you so much, let me look at you," he said effectively stepping out of her embrace and steering her slightly away from him. She didn't want to think about the changes he saw, she knew she was too thin and her face had taken on a sunken pallor, she didn't look bad per say, just aged beyond her years. He noticed all those things, and how she favored her right leg and her hands always seemed to find their way to her abdomen, nervously fluttering across her stomach. Logan noticed those things too. He was standing a few feet behind them, watching the happiness that radiated from her face as she embraced her father for the first time in years. He'd known that he never stopped loving her, but at that moment, he realized he never stopped being in love with her either, and probably never would.

So caught up in the commotion of the platform Veronica nearly missed the sharp intake of breath that came from behind her. The sound of flesh on fabric and hushed, urgent whispering came mid-turn, her eyes scanning for what could have prompted such noises. It had to have been major for Dick to have actually been in pain from Wallace's blow before she could face either of them her eyes locked with a pair she had only been seeing in dreams. Her pulse quickened. Every furious flutter of her heart reverberated throughout her body. For a moment she was sure she'd fainted and, as usual, when she woke up he'd be gone, along with those molten eyes. Eyes squeezed tightly shut and when she opened them he was standing out of her reach.

"Hello, Veronica," he said out of the side of his mouth, it was the playful tone he only used when speaking to her and it stabbed to the very core of her.

"Logan," his name fell from her lips, almost reverent, tinged with confusion and no small amount of anger.

"God you're beautiful," he whispered, coming to stop mere inches away. Keith had shifted next to Wallace and Dick, he knew this confrontation had to happen, regardless of much he wished he could shield the both of them from the inevitable pain it would bring.

Tears swam in Veronica's eyes. The closer they got to falling, the closer she got to him and just as his hands neared her waist…

The sound of her fist connecting with his cheek echoed through the corridor. Curses chorused around her as she tried to regain her composure but her mind swam and her body couldn't compensate. She had led with her dominant leg like she'd been taught, but that had been the leg that had been broken in the accident. At the moment it was bearing more weight than it should and before she knew it, she was stumbling, right into Logan's arms. His shock at being struck by her turned into unadulterated concern as he felt her tears soak into his shirt. He tried to soothe her, whispering endearments into her hair, it only made the tears come harder. Her friends' concerned gaze fell to Keith as he clapped Logan on the back, and grabbed his bag, then motioned them to start heading to the car. No words were exchanged, none needed to be as Logan swept Veronica into his arms and followed them out of the train station.

"Mr. Mars, what is going on?" Dick asked quietly, they were only a few steps ahead of Veronica and Logan, and her cries had seemed to at least have subsided some.

"Logan and I," he paused. Wallace had come up on his other flank, intently listening as he spoke. "We ended up at the same outpost before getting shipped back here. I've spent the last couple weeks trying to process seeing him again. Clearly, I shared you boys' anger," which they both openly wore, "but after talking to him, and the guys he served with…I'd say he was punished enough by someone much more powerful than you or I."

"That doesn't mean we have to like it," Wallace said tersely.

"Especially since you'll be cohabitating. Fuck! Does he know any of that?" Keith shook his head. "Oh, this'll be fun." He looked at Wallace, they both knew their anger was secondary to Veronica's feelings, in that instant they acknowledged they'd follow her lead. Keith looked at them and smiled, proud of the two young men who sacrificed so much for their country and who had clearly been looking out for his daughter. He slowed to a step behind them, trying to collect his emotions before facing his daughter again.

As they got to the parking lot, Wallace pulled the keys from his pocket and chuckled.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about how lucky we are that Veronica vetoed your suggestion that we bring the Phantom, the Studebaker we could have explained away because he gave it to her when he got the Rolls but…this is not the reunion scene I envisioned."

"Wally, when does anything actually turn out the way we expect? Just another SNAFU in Neptune," Dick lamented. They'd been standing at the car a few minutes before Keith, Veronica and Logan sidled up next to them.

"Why don't you sit up front Logan?" Keith suggested. Logan looked at Veronica, her face still buried in the crook of his neck, the last thing he wanted to do was lose the physical contact he'd been craving for so long. "I'd kind of like to be the shoulder my daughter cries on, for a little while at least." Logan nodded in acquiescence, gingerly setting Veronica down. She looked up at him, her once bright, cerulean eyes dull with too many years of tears. He swept the tears from under her eyes and kissed her on the forehead, the stinging contact with his slightly swollen cheek reminding him how deeply he hurt her. He nodded moving toward the passenger side, painfully aware of how his former best friends looked at him, watched his every move. Sighing, he prepared for the ride back to Neptune. He had no idea what awaited him, but he knew for certain that his future included a soft bed, a hot shower and a certain petite blonde whose trust and love would only come after many years of contrition. He couldn't wait to start proving himself to her.

The silence in the car had been sublime. Veronica had fallen asleep shortly after they left L.A. Keith had followed suit shortly thereafter and though Logan fought to stay alert, he eventually he did succumb to an uneasy slumber. He was jostled awake by the nearly frantic rattling of his seat. Panic started to hit before he realized where he was, his breathing coming in rapid, shallow bursts. Wallace looked over concerned but Logan just shook him off. Wallace understood, he'd woken up like that more times than he'd like to recollect. Dick stopped his legs nervous bouncing while Logan composed himself, the fact that they were entering Neptune at that moment made it all the more difficult to control. Just a few minutes before things changed forever, again. Without realizing it, his leg resumed its frenzied rhythm. Logan was about to ask Dick where the fire was when he realized they were turning down the private driveway that leads to his house. He had wanted more time with Veronica. At least a few more minutes in her presence before he had to face whatever waited on the other side of that door.

Wallace stopped the car in front of the front doors. Logan was preparing what to say before he got out of the car before he was interrupted by Keith's voice.

"Veronica, honey, it's time to wake up," she opened one eye, then another, her gaze fixing on her father.

"Are we home already?" she asked sleepily.

"Yes, baby, we're home," she smiled at him and turned toward Logan, her breath catching in her throat. It hadn't been a dream. There he sat, his face was awash in confusion as he listened to their exchange.

"I hope you're okay with new roommates," she said almost cheekily, her voice seemed lighter, and warmer. "Welcome home, Logan."


	6. Thankless

**So, this got a bit rambly and for that, I apologize. As always, I am simply borrowing these wonderful characters. To those who read, follow and review, thank you so, so much. Your words mean a great deal, so love is greatly appreciated!**

" _Ax! Get your ass outta there!" He could hear Gunny's voice boom across the beach, they were separated by a good fifty yards and the small faction of well-hidden Japanese soldiers. They were pinned on the beach, bullets flying too close, landing at their feet in the sand._

" _Okay, Casey," he adjusted the helmet firmly on his head and crouched down next to his friend. "I'm going to get you outta here buddy, but I need you to stand. Can you do that?" The gun spray was closer now, Logan covered Casey's body with his own, he'd already lost too much blood, and he couldn't take another hit._

" _Logan," his voice was a low croak, half-suffocated, half-terrified, "You have to go. I'm not going to make it…" he said softly. Logan frantically shook his head and slid his arm under Casey's shoulders, propelling him forward._

" _I have to try Case," With that, he hoisted the injured man to his feet, the blood soaking his khaki shirt as the movement caused the wound to gush. "Shit." Casey's sudden loss of consciousness knocked them both back to the ground. The rapid fire had reached its crescendo, Logan stayed as close to the ground as he could while trying to rouse his friend. He could hear shouting behind him, Japanese and English though he couldn't understand a single word that was said._

" _Lo?"_

" _I'm right here," he put his hand on his friends shoulder and squeezed it tightly._

" _Get out of this place," the tears ran unfettered down Casey Gants cheeks, he had accepted his fate and hoped that the same wouldn't befall his old friend. "Keep your fucking head on straight, Logan, I'm serious, you need to make it back!" He wasn't sure where this wave of urgency had come from, but Logan dutifully listened, trying to assuage the dying man by insisting he would do everything he could to get back. Casey grasped the front of his shirt, soaked through with his blood and looked his friend square in the eyes, the intensity striking Logan like a mallet. "Survive, Logan. She….you need to get home." And as quickly as the inferno flared through his eyes, the flame stilled, then flickered before being extinguished completely._

" _Case? Casey?" Logan gently tried to shake Casey awake, his voice breaking with each unanswered response. He clutched the fallen Marine close to his chest and cried. When their unit's had met up Logan was terrified Casey would give him away, or bring up a subject Logan wasn't sure he'd be able to handle, but he took to calling him Ax and leaving Neptune a half a world away without having to be asked. That was the only time he'd ever mentioned the past, and he said her. There was only one her. And he would move Heaven and Earth to get back there. Gunny was calling for him again. He detached a dog tag and put it in his pocket, his silent promise lingering in the air that he'd make his way home. Checking his weapon, he nodded a final goodbye to Casey and took off across the gap, shooting blindly into the fray before collapsing at the feet of his Lieutenant._

" _Ax? Lonnie? Come on, son, get up!"_

* * *

He woke with a start, breathing haggard, the scent of gunpowder still in his nostrils. He yawned, haphazardly wiped the vestiges of sleep from his eyes and shifted, uncomfortably, the sand giving way beneath his weight. The waves broke lazily along the shore as Logan forced himself into a sitting position, sighing heavily as he looked longingly towards the house.

"Well, I made it home Case, now what do I do?" He sighed audibly. He should go now while it was still dark enough she could be asleep, but he couldn't will himself to stand. If he were being honest with himself, he knew waiting was the best chance to run into her. Not much longer, another minute or two, just enough to work up the courage to face her. Since they'd gotten back, the whole four days it had been, she could barely even look at him.

Maybe he should have looked upset when he walked through the front door. Everything from before was gone; his parents photos and paintings, the furniture they argued over, every surface that held any bit of negativity was tabula rasa. This was his chance, to make this house his home, finally. He couldn't help the smile that appeared. When Veronica walked past him and showed her father to the master suite, it clicked that they were his new roommates. He'd been nearly certain that it would be Dick or Wallace who he'd be living with, the current reality hadn't even presented itself as an option in his mind. She was living in his house. Had been living in his house, he presumed, at least, a little while.

There wasn't much in the way of anything, really, save for a small loveseat and stereo in the great room, a stark contrast to the massive stone fireplace they sat next to, and a four-person dinette that was swallowed by the sheer expanse of the dining room. Veronica had called to him from her doorway after seeing Dick and Wallace out. She had said his room was still same and that there was an important envelope on his desk. Before he could respond she'd slipped into her room. The one right across from his. That wasn't a coincidence, was it? Four days he'd been pondering that, along with a myriad of other things only she could answer.

Coming home was much more difficult that Logan had expected. Not that he assumed it would be a seamless transition back to normalcy, but add the fact the Mars' were living in his home to the equation, and watch him become the poster child to the maladjusted. He was relentlessly antsy if there wasn't one part of his body fidgeting he was sleeping, and even then it was restless. It was eerily quiet all the time, and far too still, it made him uncomfortable. He spent the last few years sleeping in shifts, if one could call the few hours he had, every couple of nights, actually sleeping. There were a few times when the fighting was less intense, and they found their camps had a little more permanence and he'd been able to sleep continuous hours. Like with every happiness in life, it too came with a price.

Those prized rest periods soon became as haunted as Logan's waking life. He remembered being seven or eight and talking to his mother about the nightmares he'd been having. Thinking she would dismiss his childish fancy, he was shocked to find himself enveloped tightly in her arms. She soothingly whispered that it was over, and the monster could not come when he slept, he was safe and no harm would come to him. Of course, she was wrong, the monster never stopped, even as he slept. The emotional scars ran as deep as the physical ones. Though these times when he woke panic stricken, it wasn't his body that burned, but his heart. His soul. She stole into his subconscious long before he ever left her at their prom, where the barbs she detached nestled in his heart. His punishment from the gods, he was sure, was that every time he closed his eyes, her face was what he saw. Whether it was the heartbreak from his departure or seeing her happy, with someone else; the absolute worst was when he dreamed of what their future, together, would have been like. Sure, he woke those days more determined, carried forward with the knowledge they were steps closer to home, to her. He learned to be thankful for short, sporadic bouts of sleep brought on by bone-deep exhaustion. There was no time for dreams then.

Since the majority of his service was spent on cots or tarps on the beach, Logan was not used to sleeping on a bed much less waking up at his leisure. The first few nights he fell asleep on the patio, waking only after the sun rose. When he'd come in, he'd find coffee ready for him, but nothing and no one else. Veronica had told him, in the handful of words she'd said to him since they'd been back, that she was still needed in the office and her father would be joining. She hadn't been particularly cold to him, he had thought, but her edges were rough and badly worn, her ability to keep her tongue in check was masterful, he could see the guard masking her eyes was practically threadbare. He tried to stay out of her way. Maybe the first night he accidentally fell asleep outside, but the next two, he couldn't bear the thought of sleeping just across the hall from her when she could hardly to stand to look at him. He'd go into sleep when he knew she was gone. He could live in the same house and avoid her forever, right? That's what it seemed she was counting on. He sighed loudly as he pushed himself off the sand. Brushing the pervasive granules from his clothing, he made his way up the steps that lead to the back doors. He was halfway into a sure-fire plan that would allow this avoidance thing to go on forever when he noticed the silhouette seated at the large stone table. He slowed his approach, noting the two steaming cups on the table.

"Good morning, Veronica," he said quietly. "Your dad joining you?" He heard her breathe in deeply, the slow, shaky exhale mirroring his own as she spoke.

"No," she said, and added amused "He's busy fighting a formerly feather foe into submission." Logan quirked his eyebrow in confusion and even in the dusky morning light she could see it, the smirk on her face was surely equally noticeable. "It's thanksgiving Logan."

"Ah, yes, how could I have forgotten? Oh right," he snapped his fingers emphatically. "We didn't get much time to celebrate… " he pursed his lips tightly, _she didn't get to spend the holidays with her actual family, either, remember Logan_. He shook his head and tried to smooth the acerbic edge that had crept into his voice unwillingly. "You know, the holidays at the Echolls house were all just photo-ops. I don't think I celebrated a holiday, with family, on the actual date until you and me…" his voice trailed off. He looked up to see her nodding, gesturing for him to sit. He took the seat and sipped the proffered coffee gratefully.

"You don't have to sleep outside," Veronica all but whispered. Watching his constantly agitated state wore her nerves like nothing else. While she'd gotten one good hit in at the train station, she then collapsed and let him sweep her up in his arms, crying into his broad chest. He had been so warm, so strong, so HER Logan, and she was so angry at herself for letting him see her like that. She was still angry. So much so that ninety percent of her Logan centered thoughts revolved on slapping him, the other ten percent, well, she wasn't quite ready to grapple with those feelings. And if she was truly honest with herself, that ratio was definitely more seventy/thirty…on a bad day.

Logan ran his hand nervously back and forth through his hair, a small smile gracing his lips.

"It's not entirely intentional," this time her eyebrow quirked and he couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past his lips. She could still read him like a book. "I hadn't really planned on coming back and sharing my house with my ex-girlfriend and her dad, it kind of makes the adjustment even more awkward." Well, if he was going for honesty…

"Did you actually plan on coming back at all?" There was a venom in her words that Logan hadn't ever heard before. "I mean, I had figured out what you were doing, you couldn't drop me a line, at any time? A simple 'I'm alive' periodically, and maybe a 'Feel free to write me back.' To which I would have surely responded with a resounding, fuck you! But at least, I would have known you were alive! Fuck!" she said exasperatedly. The sun was creeping up over the waves, deep purple fading to pink as it made its way up the coast. Logan was certain the red that tinged her cheeks had little to do with the sun, that it was him that turned her scarlet in anger. At least, he could still affect her so strongly, that had to mean something he thought.

"Veronica, there's nothing I can say," the coffee cup rolled between his palms as he tried to work up the nerve. "There are so, so many things I wish I'd have done differently, but I can't go back and change the past. And the only regret I have is how badly I hurt you. How badly you were hurt…and the only thing I can offer to assuage that pain is to tell you if something had happened to me that you would have known." Her head snapped up, their eyes meeting in the waxing light. He could see the confusion steal across her features, her eyes seemed to dance as she tried to process his words.

"What exactly does that mean Logan?"

"It means exactly that, Ronnie," he willed his heart not to shatter when she winced. He swallowed thickly, his heart was starting to race again he noticed as he continued. "If something had happened to me, 'Lonnie Ackles' next of kin, Veronica Mars would have been notified." Veronica failed to keep her jaw from dropping at the revelation. Her mouth agape, she just started at him, the now neon sky fully illuminating his profile. She noted the sadness his eyes held and the lines that had lightly creased their corners, his leg constantly in motion, whether he knew it or not it had been going ever since he sat down, she noticed everything that was different from her Logan in that instant and the tear she had been so valiantly holding back, slipped past her defenses. She tried to catch it before he saw, she refused to let him see her cry again…but he caught her angrily wiping the tear from her face. "Please, don't Veronica," he turned toward her but was halted by her hand. Mask of indifference gone, thinly veiled rage replaced by glowing indignation, backlit by the red morning sun.

"No, Logan, I can't do this, not today," she pushed away from the table and stood. "This is the first Thanksgiving in years that I get to spend with the people I most want to. And for some, godforsaken reason that also includes you." He took a deep breath, he could feel his chest tightening and that tingling sensation in his left hand. "So, can we get through dinner tonight and then have it out? Just ten more hours then you say your bit and I'll say mine and we can go back to avoiding each other." He nodded, forcing his eyes to lock with hers, a silent promise that they would indeed finish this conversation later. She shook her head once and quickly retreated back into the house. Logan set his coffee on the table and dropped his head between his legs. He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been like that when he noticed another pair of legs in his line of sight. Slowly lifting his head he saw Keith Mars, still in his pajamas, shaking his head.

"You know what we sailors say about the morning sky," Logan laughed softly, taking a deep breath as he sat up, then stood from the chair. "If her current attitude can be used to measure the rest of the day, I'd say we're in for the Seventh Circle of Hell."

"You'd be lucky if she put you in the Fifth, Mr. Mars," Logan said half-jokingly. "She may be angry at you, but me, I'll be in the Ninth Circle for all the days of eternity. Treachery doesn't seem to cover it." He shook his head, he could hardly blame her.

"Logan, you knew this was going to be difficult. It's only been a few days, you have to give her time, son," Keith put his hand on Logan's shoulder. "Did you give her the letters?"

He shrugged off Keith's arm and ran his hand across the back of his neck.

"I'll take that as a no. You should really do that. I can't promise Veronica will forgive you, Logan, we both know how badly she was hurt, but maybe if she knew how you hurt too, well…" Keith turned away from the young man, his heart aching for the boy and his daughter who both needed time and support to find their way back to one another. Right now, though, he was going to focus on his stuffing, because by God, he was finally back in the USA and he was going to celebrate America with the best Thanksgiving on the west coast.

* * *

Veronica had dug what little china her parents had out of the garage and set the table meticulously as if it were going to be featured in 'Better Homes and Gardens'. Ever since her encounter with Logan this morning, she had been teetering, her desperation throwing herself into whatever mundane task lay ahead of her. Each place setting was picture perfect, the paragon of table dressing. She had been wary of eating outside but, the weather was perfect. Another plus in your column southern California, she thought trying to push the idea of running out of her head. She had to admit, there was something about enjoying a meal outdoors. The men unanimously seemed to prefer it. The large outdoor table was also the only place that afforded they could all be sat together. Thank goodness neither Lynn nor Aaron had any need for this monstrosity and had left it behind. Veronica looked at her friends, laughing quietly as Darrell tried exhausting himself by running up and down the steps. No amount of admonishment from his mother or anyone seemed to have an impact, everyone was in too good of spirits.

Or, perhaps more appropriately, had too many good spirits in them.

"So, Logan, how's it feel to be home?" Vinnie Van Lowe asked through a mouthful of dinner roll. Logan had been the picture of a perfect host, graciously welcoming the Fennels, Vinnie, and Dick into his home. He certainly had no difficulty slinking right back into that false, Echolls-imbued bravado, damn was he charming. That veneer was slipping, Veronica could see the tension that had been mounting all day rolling off him in waves.

"Feels great. There's nothing like being alive Mr. Van Lowe," he said, swirling the last of the wine in his glass before drinking it down. He wasn't sure how many glasses he'd had, but he was pretty sure they'd just polished off the fifth bottle. He half expected the wine cellar to be empty but was delighted to only find a handful of bottles missing, he and Wallace had carried a variety up when everyone had arrived. That was the only one on one interaction they had and neither had much to say, not about anything important anyway. Logan had expected them to be mad at him too, of course, but they shared something deep even before they had all left to fight, and he hoped he hadn't lost them as well. It hurt him more than he thought it would that Wallace and Dick were there for Veronica. Not just tonight, but when he had left and before he got back. They worked, in a strange, symbiotic way, each needing the other in a way another couldn't fill, and Logan hated how absolutely jealous he was of them. That was perhaps the reason he kept drinking after his head had clearly told him to stop.

"To being alive!" Veronica yelled from across the table, upending her nearly full glass of wine and drinking down every last drop. Wallace and Dick shared a look, this was not going to be pretty. "I am _so_ happy that all those wishes I made against your life didn't actually come true. Then again, most of the wishes I made about you didn't come true."

"What were you hoping for Veronica? Grotesque burns? Incurable malaise?" he challenged from behind his once again full glass. She scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her tightly, looking anywhere but his direction. Angry words glided over his tongue, their acid burning the rational thought from his mind until his eyes met with Keith's and the shame took over. The man had the ability to make him feel an inch tall with the slightest raise of his brow and a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. "You know what? I promised you tonight, Veronica, and I want to keep my promises to you. All of them." He said pointedly, she looked in his direction and allowed him to hold her gaze. In that look, he tried to convey how sorry he was for nearly letting her down, again, and he would prove himself worthy of her. Some day. He nodded and pushed away from the table. "I'll be on the beach when you're ready to talk." He thanked everyone for coming and excused himself, his eyes never leaving hers.

Veronica knew when he was out of sight because suddenly all the eyes focused on her.

"Honey, if you want to go…"

"No," she shook her head resolutely, "I asked him to get through this meal. We're going to do that and enjoy it, dammit. I know where to find him." Dick and Wallace knew where he'd be as well, and while they knew Veronica had to talk to him, they felt as if they did too. As if she could sense what they were thinking, she waved her hand at them dismissively.

"You know, this telepathy thing is getting pretty creepy, Vee," Wallace stood and kissed his mom on the cheek before going around the table and grabbing Veronica's hand. Dick had come over and put his hand on top, jerking his head in the direction of steps.

"Let's go soften him up, Wally. He's going to crack like the Liberty Bell when she gets her claws into him," she smiled at the two people she had come to depend on so much. She wasn't sure why fate could be so cruel and in the same stroke, know exactly what someone needed. Before she could register they'd left, Alicia was by her side, asking her asinine questions to keep her mind from following the boys down the beach. She was never more grateful to be distracted in her life.

* * *

"Logan! Hey, Logan wait up!"

"Yeah, man, Dick doesn't do so good on sand!"

"Fuck off, Wallace."

"I'm not trying to be an asshole, Dick. I'm simply trying to explain to our friend up there why he needs to slow down," the way friend had come out had set Logan's teeth on edge. If he had been looking at Wallace, he was sure that the sneer on his face conveyed it perfectly. He stopped then, but still faced away. Dick stepped past Wallace and kept walking toward Logan. Logan turned his head to see one of his oldest friends, slowly, uncomfortably, purposefully coming to stand beside him on the beach. He couldn't help the sadness that stole over his features, to see Dick, always vivacious and so full of life, have to focus so intently on such a menial task. He went to speak but Dick silenced him with a hand.

"Look Lo," the corner of his mouth twitched upward involuntarily. "We'll have plenty of time to hash out whatever between the three of us. Wally and I have taken issue with several things you have done, or hadn't done as it were, but we're secondary. We've been friends since we were kids Logan, and even though there is some, residual anger..." Dick sighed, and resignedly finished, "I am really, and really glad you're home." He went to clap Logan on the shoulder but his friend grabbed him, wrapping his arms around him in a most un-masculine hug.

"Dick, I am so sorry." He said as he pulled away, leaving room for Wallace to stand beside them. "Wallace," he extended his hand and was met with a firm, yet warm handshake. "I know there is nothing I can say to justify my leaving like I did, but I will spend the rest of my days trying to make up for it. I swear."

"We get it, Logan. Your timing was…"

"Shit," Wallace supplied.

"Yes, complete shit."

"As in hit the fan."

"Is this what I missed out on in Europe? The comedy stylings of Casablancas and Fennell? Is all you do finish each other's sentences or is there more to this troupe?" Dick couldn't help but smirk, knowing that the war hadn't completely destroyed the jackass that lurked inside of Logan.

"Well, I don't know what you Leathernecks deem as comedic, but leaving your pregnant girlfriend to fend off the wolves doesn't seem riotous to me!" Wallace countered. The hurt in Logan's eyes burned white hot, even Dick couldn't believe he'd said that.

"I didn't know," his voice sounded hollow as if all the fight had burned up in him. Desperation replaced the pain as Logan sank to his knees. "I swear to you I had no idea. I would never have. I could never leave my…you have to believe I would have never left her if I'd known." Dick nodded and smiled somberly, Wallace's face still held lines of disdain, but he relenting nods.

"We know that Logan, so does she. You know as angry as she was at you, is at you," Dick corrected, "she's never once let us call you all the terrible things we've wanted to. Well, not in front of her anyway." Logan tried to smile, but the nausea that overwhelmed whenever he thought of what Veronica went thought put an end to it.

"Mr. Mars told me. He hadn't planned on it, didn't want to be the one to tell me, but thought I should know before I showed up on her doorstep begging her to take me back," a mirthless laugh did manage to pass his lips this time. "Funny how it's actually my doorstep and I haven't had more than five minutes with her, and we all know it takes, at least, double that time to get a word, let alone groveling in with her." He pulled himself up and brushed the sand from his knees, as much as he loved the beach he was pretty sure he was done with sand. After his dream this morning, he was certain he was done with the beach for a while too.

"Okay, so after we all leave, you are going to go to her," Wallace looked at him pointedly as he looked sheepishly at his feet, his weight shifting back and forth. "You go to her and you listen to every word she has to say to you. And if you're lucky, she'll let you respond. If not," he and Dick shrugged, turning away from Logan and walking back toward the house. Over his shoulder, Dick called,

"Grovel. Beg. Swear up and down on everything you hold holy. Do NOT fuck this up again Logan!" Logan genuinely laughed as his friends faded from view, their words strengthening his resolve. He could make this right. He would give it everything he had. Oh God, please let it be enough.

* * *

Everyone had gone, Logan assumed, as the only light emanating came from beside Veronica's loveseat. She stared out the massive windows, taking in the night as Lena Horne purred in the background. Her fingers absentmindedly twirled flaxen strands between their lengths, she was so lost in the music she hadn't noticed Logan come in until he was stood right in front of her.

"Did you have a nice walk?" She asked coolly. Letting her hair slip from her fingers, she settled her gaze on him, her eyes like ice as they raked over his body. He took a deep breath. He was prepared for the anger that she was bound to unleash though his shaky hand and palpitating heart spoke otherwise.

"It's a lovely night. Though I have to say, I think I've had all of the beaches that I can handle."

"Who'd have ever thought those words would come out of your mouth?"

"That was a long time ago, Veronica. And my experiences on beaches have quite changed since then." He rejoined snappily. The mask had slipped completely, the anger and hurt radiated from her form at his tone.

"And whose fault is that Logan?"

"Mine! It is completely my fault! I just wanted to do something with my life that wasn't a direct derivative of being an Echolls."

"Well, bully for you! Was it worth it Logan? Do you feel like a real man now?"

"Veronica, please, I know I can never make you understand why I left, half the time I don't know why I did it either. God, I was such a fool and I know it, I know I should have never listened to what anyone else said about me. And if I could have trusted my heart," he paused and took a deep breath, her eyes watching him expectantly as tears ringed her eyes. He knelt down in front of her, aching to touch her but knowing he had to maintain his control. "I would have never doubted the man you saw in me. I would have stayed, by your side, and you'd never have gotten rid of me." She fought the smile that tugged at her lips but reminding herself that he did leave her forced the thought to the back of her mind.

"That's real nice of you, but the timing of this epic speech is about three years too late. I don't want to hear about how much you loved me because however much say it was, it clearly wasn't enough."

"It was more than enough, Veronica. You deserved, deserve so much more than I can give you. I hurt you, and I'll never forgive myself for what I put you through. I don't expect you to forgive me either, but I swear to you I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it right."

"See, that's what you don't get Logan, nothing can ever make it right, you don't… You could have had thousands of different beach memories, happy ones. Ones where you and I and our child," His breath hitched despite himself, to hear her say it impacted him with physical force. She forced her eyes to his, glassed over, deep with sadness and regret, and a pain she had only ever seen in her own eyes. Involuntarily, her hands rested on her stomach, the revulsion rising in her body as she began to cry. "I lost our baby, Logan," his arms encircled her small frame before the first tear could spill past her lashes. "I couldn't save him, Lo, he never had a chance." He cried with her, the sobs racking her body reverberating through his own. He held onto her for as long as she let him, the record had stopped, the only sound was her faint hiccupping and the waves picking up speed as the lashed at the coast.

"Ronnie," she tensed. "Veronica, nothing that happened was your fault. Everything, all of it was because of me. Stop blaming yourself, please, I can't bear to see you hurt so badly." His fingers toyed with her ponytail, deftly weaving the strands in a lulling pattern, noticing her breathing start to even out he held her closer and kept whispering. "Hate me. Forever if you have to, but please, forgive yourself."

"If only I could hate you," she sharply pulled away from him, wiping the tears from her face. "It would be SO much easier if I could hate you, and yet, no matter how hard I try…" she shook the thoughts from her head, no point in going down that road right now. "How did you find out? Your reaction to finding out I was pregnant and subsequently lost our child was much more subdued that I anticipated." And just like that, the mask was back. The emotion she struggled to hold onto had been tamped back down, she was fully in control of how much of herself she would show from now on. Oh, how he'd missed this woman.

"Your dad told me on the Gordon. I was apparently being a self-indulgent, drama queen and he decided I needed setting straight. If I was going to try and be a part of your life again, I had to come baring my heart and soul…and in order to do so, all the blanks needed filling in." He could see her biting the inside of her cheek, she was holding back something more but he wouldn't push her.

"And he did that? Filled in all the blanks?"

"Yes. Every last one. And I swear while there is still breath in my body, I will make him pay, I swear to you, Veronica. Aaron will not get away with what he did to you." A smile ghosted her lips, a real one, and she nodded, complacent that maybe they could be getting on the same page.

"Well, that's one thing we agree on." She raised her glass and drank her final sip of wine. She had gotten drunker than intended, but for once, she was thankful for it. She was an apathetic drunk, and keeping her emotions in check, especially the Logan-centric ones, was easier to do when she could not think about the gravity of their orbit. "I think I'm going to call it a night," she said quietly. Rocking back on his heels, he nodded and stood, hands outstretched in front of him for her to take hold of. She allowed herself his assistance in standing and being walked to her room. "Can we continue this in the morning?"

"I um, actually have some things to take care of in LA," he said uncomfortably. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"You're leaving me again? After what you just said?!" she couldn't help how her voice raised, or how the blood thrummed in her veins.

"No, Veronica!" he insisted, his hands rubbing up and down her upper arms. "I'm not leaving you. I'll be gone a few days, but I am never leaving YOU again. I swear." He desperately wanted to kiss her, to make her feel everything he did but he knew he couldn't. She nodded.

"The keys to the Phantom are in the glove box, it hasn't been driven in a while so you might want to run her before you go. I guess, I'll see you when you get back." He smiled down at her, tracing his thumb along her cheekbone before he could register what he was doing. Her breathing had sped up and he could feel her heart pounding, if he didn't walk away now he'd never be able to.

"Good night, Veronica. I'll see you when I get back." He turned towards his room and could have sworn her heard her say 'hurry home' before the door latched closed behind him.

* * *

It wasn't a dream. The conversation she had been dreading had actually happened and it didn't go half as horrible as she'd expected. Of course, they still had miles to go before they grasped the scope of what that kind of revelation could do to a person. At least, she had a couple days to get her head on before he came back. If he came back. No, he promised he'd come back this time and that he'd never leave again. And she trusted him. Right? For the most part, she did actually trust that he'd be back, she just wasn't sure she was willing to let him back into her heart. She didn't actually remember walking to the kitchen she was so caught up in her thoughts. Robotically, she filled the percolator and sat it on the stove, a slave to her morning routine she barely noticed the stack of letters neatly bound on the counter. The single, loose paper on top drew her in, she fingered its delicate edges as she took in the meticulously printed words:

 **My dearest, Veronica,**

 **I know we left things unsettled last night. Yes, we both said many things but I can tell you do not trust my actions, or intentions. I can hardly begrudge you this; I would hold onto that anger as long as I could. It's been your fuel, I get it. But please, please, for your sake, let me shoulder my share of the blame and allow me to make this up to you.**

 **I saw the box in the back of the Phantom, I suppose I have your compulsive tendencies to thank for its chronology; it looks like I have a lot of reading to do myself this weekend. This is every letter I wrote you while I was deployed. If ever you thought I left because my love for you was waning, these letters will surely make you realize that was never the case. I have always, always loved you, and I'm afraid it is my burden that I always will.**

 **These days apart will seem like an eternity I fear, I know that I've only been back in your life a few days but I swore I would never let you out of my sight once I found you again. I suppose it was me who was truly found in all this, and while I know I am still working towards being that better person, I know that the only life I want to lead is with you.**

 **I'll be home before you can miss me again. I promise.**

 **All my love,**

 **L**


	7. When Tomorrow Comes

**So, people are actually reading this and reviewing, and it's pretty flippin' awesome. Many thanks to those who've dropped a line, it's so nice hearing all your thoughts. Again, thank you, thank you thank you!**

27 November 1945

Logan Echolls was alive. And happy about it. He had spent the last five days re-establishing his life and he could not wait to start living. Los Angeles was vibrant and vivacious, even dealing with the never-ending succession of lawyers and paperwork his mother set up couldn't dent his spirts. Lynn may not have been a great many things, but she was an exacting and concise businesswoman, especially when it came to what she felt she owed her son. Her father had instilled his methodical business acumen in her when she was young, there was a reason the Lesters hadn't lost too much in the crash, and being the only biological grandchild, Logan came into an uncontested fortune by simply turning eighteen. She and her team ensured that if, or when, Logan came back he would be able to seamlessly transition back into his old life. Perhaps while 'dotting i's and crossing t's' made for the restoration of his financial security, it did fuck-all in regards to the thing he hoped to mend most. He depressed the accelerator, hands gripping the steering wheel methodically as he turned down the road that leads him home.

He was going back to HIS house, in HIS car, had access to monumental amounts of money that were all legally his, and had nothing to do with his father. If he was lucky, which he was starting to think he might actually be, he would never see Aaron again. Because, if he was totally honest, he just might kill him and Logan had no intention of going to jail. And though he was now bolstered by independence, none of these things compared to the happiness he felt at the thought of getting back to her.

As he pulled up the drive-way he was surprised to see the Stud. He parked in the garage, thinking he had to familiarize himself better with Veronica's schedule. Had he known she'd be home he would have left LA much earlier. He was walking down the hallway, intending to drop his jacket in his room when he heard the radio blaring from the great room. Curiosity getting the better of him, he meandered away from his destination and made his way toward the heart of the house. He saw nothing, only heard the radio. That's what he noticed the French doors, the ones that lead out to the patio, were wide open. With quickened steps he crossed the floor in seconds, his eyes searching the patio itself and seeing nothing.

Her name was on his lips as noticed her form on the beach steps, bottle laying in the sand at her feet. He sucked in a sharp breath and quietly descended the stairs. If she noticed his approach, she didn't say anything, she simply stared at the water, transfixed.

"Well, I can't say I expected to come home to this," Logan drawled as he scooped the bottle from the ground, gingerly fingering the label on the nearly empty bottle of scotch. "Day drinking the good stuff didn't know you had it in you, Mars."

She looked at him without turning her head. From the corner of her eye, she could see the bottle make his way to his lips before handing it back to her. She hadn't been drinking, not much anyway, and not for no reason.

"Didn't you hear, Echolls?" she questioned emphatically. "That's what the women in my family do. Any time we feel particularly sad or lonely or anything, we drink. And then we run. If the pattern holds true I'll be out of your hair in just a few short weeks." She toasted the ocean and fully turned to look at him before partaking her libation.

"Come on, Ronnie," he reached the short distance between them and retrieved the bottle from her grasp. "You are so much stronger than that."

"Oh, and you know this how?" she challenged. Scoffing in response, Logan shook his head and drank another swig from the bottle.

"Look what you've been through, Veronica! How could you ever doubt your strength?" The sincerity in his eyes stole her breath, she looked away quickly, hoping he couldn't see how his very proximity affected her. After a couple of deep breaths she looked back, the love shining in his eyes was mirrored by the questions in hers.

"I was only strong because I had to be, Logan. There were no other options." The words came out resolute but hollow.

"You had other options. But they would have taken you down the same path your mom was on. And how easy it could have been, Ronnie. You were, probably, scared and lonely and…" His voice trailed off as his emotions betrayed him, the guilt he felt amplified by her proximity. The first tear slipped past his eye unnoticed. "There aren't enough words in the universe to express to you how sorry I am. I don't know if my being here would have changed anything that happened, but I know you wouldn't have been alone. God, Veronica, I never wanted you to be alone." The tears freely cascaded down his cheeks, hers sat, brimming in her bright blue eyes.

"I wasn't alone, Lo. I mean yes, I had a rough go of it for a while. Where there was a brief time when it was just habit keeping me going. And there was always this kind of hope that the next day would bring me good news," she paused and laughed. "That good news took its sweet time. In the meantime, I put all my energy into finding out what happened to me. Sometimes I wish I didn't know, especially since I'll never be able to prove it, just knowing that he's out there make me sick. That pushed me through those dark times, you know? There was no chance in hell that I could let him win, I survived and I would keep surviving. Then Dick and Wallace came back and I really wasn't alone anymore. By then I had already come so far, looking back just wasn't an option. I owed it to our baby, to myself, to be better; to be strong enough that when or if the next time came…I could be strong enough…that I could protect…"

"Hey, hey," Logan grabbed Veronica's hands and held them tightly in his. She wanted to pull them away, desperately, the electricity she had felt when their bodies touched was more than her senses could handle. This was the most physical contact they had had since the day at the train station, and while she hated how her body responded to him, she had to admit she missed these feelings most. There was nothing in the world quite like being on the receiving end of Logan's affection. He was relentlessly passionate and had this way of putting everything he felt into every touch, and when he loved you as much as he loved Veronica, every nerve ending in her body stood on end when there was contact between them. She swallowed deeply as she pulled her hands, still entwined with his, to her lap. "What you said right there proves you will never, EVER, be like her. Even if you decided to get sloshed every now and again. You put our child, who will never know this world and children you have yet to even have ahead of yourself. How could you think you were like her? You've never walked away from anything in your life, Veronica Mars. You're amazing. And I promise you, Aaron Echolls will get his. On my life, Ronnie, he'll pay." He wasn't sure if it was real or because of the liquor, but at that moment, he would have sworn she was leaning into him or maybe he was leaning into her, and before he could figure it out, a loud groan erupted from the ambiguous shape on the beach. The sound startled Logan enough he lost the tenuous grip he had on Veronica's hands and absently played with the cuff of his jeans to mask the ache the loss of contact caused.

Happy to be free of the moment that seemed to be mounting between them, Veronica pointed toward the mass.

"I did not put that dent in the bottle myself," she said matter-of-factly. "Dad's had a rough day." Another groan came, this one louder and accompanied by flailing arms, as he flopped around trying to flip over.

"I'll say," Logan said with quiet amusement, a smirk settling on his lips.

"I took him to the cemetery," she said quietly. He looked at her questioningly seeing her face shift, sorrow steeling her features as her eyes turned sympathetically toward him. "Cliff didn't make it."

"Where was he?" Logan asked thickly. Cliff had always treated him well, like family. He relentlessly teased him, exuded pride when he did well and threatened his life if he ever hurt Veronica. Deep down Logan had always kind of wished his dad would have been more life Cliff and the thought of never hearing his voice again, chipped at the tattered edges of his heart.

"Belgium. He was in the Ardennes. Just after Christmas."

"To Cliff," he mirrored Veronica's earlier action and toasted the ocean, taking a much larger swig than he did the first time. She snatched the bottle back and held it to her lips but before she could imbibe, the doorbell chimed. Ceaselessly.

"Who could that be?" She asked, looking toward the house. Logan smiled broadly, he stood and offered her his hand, his eyebrows raised excitedly.

"Ah, that would be your surprise," placing her hand in his, she allowed him to help her stand only because she was inebriated enough she was afraid of stumbling. She told herself. It had nothing at all to do with the fact he always over-compensated when he did this. That she had always stumbled forward into his chest, his large hands settling at her waist to keep her on her feet. Which is exactly what happened. She breathed deeply, letting the scent and the feel of him wash over her, and for just a moment she could feel her resolve slipping. His arms braced her to him, tightening as he took in the feeling of her, words of adoration dying on his tongue as he felt her stiffen in his embrace. He swallowed and pulled away from her, effectively breaking contact before he could make too big a fool of himself.

"A surprise you say," she said coyly. "Lead the way, Echolls!" He managed a tight smile, before turning up the stairs, Veronica following a couple steps behind, desperately trying to force the façade back into place, he couldn't know how close he'd come, how easy he could make it. There was too much at stake and he made it dreadfully easy to fall back into old patterns, especially when all she'd dreamt about for years was doing that very thing. But, it turns out, hearts do not heal in a week.

By the time Veronica made her way through the dining area, Logan was directing a veritable litany of deliveries through the house. There were large couches for the great room, tables and lamps to match, and a new state of the art stereo system. She noticed more furniture going toward the guest suite and back den, and as she made her way toward the kitchen, she saw it.

"Is this?" She questioned, practically running into the dining room as Logan came up beside her. He nodded. Her fingers ran across the highly polished wood, the smile playing on her lips was electric to him. He could only imagine what was running through her head. "How?" was all she could manage.

"Well, if I recall correctly, someone loved the dining room set at my parent's house in Los Angeles. This place really needed to be refurnished, especially if you want to continue having big family dinners with all our friends," he winked. "So when I heard this was in storage, I called my mother's lawyer. Having a Ruhlmann in storage is a crime unto itself."

"Ah, and justice has been served by bringing it here?"

"Maybe not justice, per say, but penance?"

"Did you really go to LA just to get furniture? That seems extreme, even for an Echolls."

"Ha. No. That was not the sole purpose of my venture."

"Do you care to elaborate or am I just to start making assumptions, because let me tell you, I've been picturing the situations you could have been in for almost four years, and I have quite the imagination."

"Clearly. What have I done to raise the alarm today?" She stared at him obstinately. He really hadn't done anything but bring back furnishings for his house. HIS house, the words rang through her head, he hadn't done anything that required her to lash out at him.

"Nothing, I'm sorry. I've been here so long I forget it's not actually mine. You do whatever you want."

"This," he said, motioning around a full house, "is not about me. It's about making this place feel like home, for all of us."

"Logan, now that my dad is back, and once he gets back on his feet, we'll go."

"No!" he added only a bit too quickly. "There's no reason for you to leave, Ronica. Even if you hate me forever, this is your home now too. And maybe when you're feeling up to it, we can go shopping together, get anything you want for the place."

"That's not necessary. Your mother made sure I have been well compensated for my time and work here. I can get the things I want but I've been saving, you know, for a house…" she paused for a moment and rejoined, "but maybe I'll go for a new car instead, dad will need his own vehicle anyway." For the first time since he'd been back his smile reached his eyes, the light emanating from his very core.

"Look, I know I can't buy my way back into your life, Veronica, but I want you to know that taking care of you is the only thing that matters now."

"Logan, I don't need to be taken care of. Some days are hard, yes, but I've taken care of myself just fine." She said, her defenses snapping up around her.

"You know that's not how I mean it Veronica. I just want, I need you to know that you're not alone anymore. You can count on me," she snickered. "I know it'll be a long road but I'm willing to take that journey. Please?" She looked at him sadly, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stepped away from the table.

"It's a beautiful gesture. All of it. And I swear Logan, I am trying, it's just all too fresh. You're back, and I've barely had a chance to wrap my head around it. I just need to process, I need time." He nodded solemnly and her heart couldn't help but ache for him. Closing her eyes tightly, she turned away, moving towards her bedroom away from him.

"Wait, you don't think the furniture is your surprise, do you?" She stopped. "The house was too empty, and if we're going to live here I want it to be, homey, at least."

She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes flitting toward him in irritation.

"So?" He cocked his head toward the door. She stood a beat and shook her head in resignation as she walked towards the front of the house. Following a step behind, Logan shoved his hands in his pockets and cast his eyes to the ground. He knew she was going to love it, and hate it, all at once. Maybe hate him even more.

 _Add another tally there, Echolls._

When he stepped outside he was met with the reaction he had expected.

"What is that?" She swung around to look at him, eyes ablaze with anger, surprise and as much as she didn't want to admit it, excitement.

"Surprise?" He tried, and failed, to look shameful. The happiness glowed on him as if it were the midday sun, he knew she was ecstatic, it all made her heart a little racy.

"This is…it's, it's too much Logan!"

"How do you know that from back here? Why don't you take a closer look?" He walked passed her, veering around to the passenger side of the new Lincoln Continental convertible that sat in the driveway, he presented his gift with a grandiose flourish of his hands.

Reluctantly she walked up to the driver's side, the chrome and white leather interior would have been exactly what she picked. She hated how much she loved it. She wouldn't accept it, it was as simple as that. Her eyes narrowed, locking with Logan's across the car.

"What makes you think, for one second, that I would take this?" He mulled it over a second and shrugged.

"I knew you wouldn't. That's why it's already in your name, so, it's on you if you want to get rid of it. The Stud, too." He could feel her seething, it wasn't often that he bested Veronica Mars and he couldn't help but gloat. Her jaw was clenched, hands constantly being made into fists and relaxed, yeah, he won this round. He spun away from the car and walked to her side, fetching the keys from his pocket, he slipped them into her disinclined hand.

"Answer me this," she called as he strode toward the house. "Why did it have to be yellow?"

He turned, laughing his answer interrupted by a booming voice from inside.

"Veronica? When did we get couch…es?"

"Time to face the inquisition, Echolls."

"Are you not coming? "

"Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. "This one is all you. I think," she opened the car door, "I'm going to take a drive. Even if I do think this is completely unacceptable." She winked at him and he couldn't help but beam as he motioned her off.

"Take the long way. I got this." She smiled back at him, her face awash in appreciation and gratitude. She mouthed thank you to him before she pulled away. He coyly nodded as he turned back towards the house, feeling lighter than he could have ever hoped to.

* * *

13 December 1945

The weeks passed quickly, as they usually did before a holiday. While Veronica had told Logan she hadn't read his letters, she lied. She had spent the entirety of the weekend he'd been gone reading, re-reading, committing passages to memory, trying to absorb his every experience and share in his pains, his triumphs, to feel everything that he wanted her to know. And again she sat on her bed, the letters she'd been most affected by, strewn across the bedspread, each watermarked by tears she could not hold at bay. The last letter, the one she hadn't read yet, lay prone just under her fingertips. She gently ran her fingers around its crisp edges, the letter clearly not having seen the spoils of war, and for some reason that fact scared her more than the others.

Tonight was the night. Christmas was under two weeks away and since she was actually really looking forward to it this year, she was hoping that if she and Logan could just get all of their cards on the table, maybe, just maybe they could start working toward an easier friendship. Not that it had been difficult, if anything, it was quite the opposite. The banter came too easily, the casual touching was natural, they'd been affecting each other's orbits for so long it was hard not to get swallowed up by the fact the other was merely there again. She needed to get past the fact that every time he accidentally brushed up against her, her knees shook, or that the force of their eyes locking had the ability to steal the air from her chest, she groaned whenever he caught her from the corner of his eye. There was this look he used to give her, this primal, longing glance that had the ability to shift her entire world right off its axis. She was certain he never knew the effect it had on her then, if he had, surely he wouldn't be so cruel to employ it against her. Right?

She threw herself back on the pillows, holding the letter in front of her face as if looking at it were the same as reading whatever was inscribed inside. With a heaving breath, she slid her nail under the sealed edge of the envelope, her last step towards the end of this chapter peeked its way from beneath the torn edge. She pulled the pages from their confines and nervously began to read:

 _Up until this moment I thought I had known sadness. The entirety of my young life was nothing more than a series of let-downs, hidden by the veneer of fame and success, one that I could never measure up to. It wasn't until that Sunday morning all those years ago when I saw you on the beach, my entire world turned upside down._

 _Now, being the twelve-year-old lothario I thought myself, I was sure you'd be eating out of the palm of my hand in no time. And then you laughed. Not that shy, cute demure giggle I elicited later in our relationship, but a guttural guffawing that struck something lit me like a match from the inside. I was so angry; how dare she deny me? That led me to hit on Lilly, to your abject horror, and my delight. She played along, of course, because Lilly likes the limelight, but she knew it was for show even then. By the end of the day, you had basically written me off the world and cursed Lilly's hair to fall out._

 _I can still see you and Duncan walking ahead of us, your arms crossed angrily across your chest, at which point I believe I made some snide comment, provoking the most unexpected reaction. I can't begin to tell you how much more I appreciate your right hook now. I think for anyone else, a relationship that's foundation rested on physically responding to insensitive taunting would probably fail before it even began, but not us, Mars. No girl had ever told me no. No girl ever stood up to me._

 _No one ever affected me like you did._

 _From that instant, I knew. God, Veronica, I knew I never wanted another woman in my life. You became my best friend, my confidante, the one person I was never ashamed to be myself around. You made me feel important and protected and loved, even before I convinced you to be my girlfriend. You accepted every part of me. You knew about Aaron, and how he treated, well, everyone. And anytime I thought I brought it on myself, or that I had deserved it, you stood up for me. To me. You stood up for me to him, to my mother and sister and anyone who ever tried to say anything against me. Even if it was true. You made me want to be a better person, Veronica. I knew then and know now that you deserve so much more than what I could have ever offered. The boy I was, he was the most fortuitous person in this universe, but he never earned that place by your side. And maybe even now, the man that I have worked so hard to become hasn't warranted that distinction either, but I will spend the rest of my days on this earth trying._

 _I would never expect your forgiveness. I walked away from you and even though neither of us could know what would've happened, I will never forgive myself. I'm the one who's responsible for what happened to you. And I can't take that I hurt you like that. I can't take that I hurt you when all I want to do is protect you._

 _Nothing I can do, or say, could ever make this right. What happened to you…I don't have the words or perhaps, I don't want to commit them to paper. Incrimination and all that. I picked up more than a few things from your dad over the years._

 _I don't think he was going to tell me, especially about Aaron's complicity, apparently I have a temper. Who knew being trapped in a floating steel city limit one's opportunity for lashing out? And while Logan Echolls has always been able to schmooze and pay his way out, Lonnie Ackles would be locked up in the brig. Getting back to you with an honorable discharge was more the direction I had been headed in before I had even run into your father. Surprisingly, I learned to be patient and dutiful, mostly. Being a Marine was seventy percent training, twenty percent purely visceral reaction and ten percent dumb luck. I surely had my percentages transposed, we both know numbers were never really my thing. I just knew I had one objective. Survival. Get my men through, get me through and get us all back home._

 _In war you learn, though, no one really ever gets to go 'home again'. And while things may look it you know pretty well that nothing is actually going to be the same. No matter where or who you are. But this, the reality of what you've had to go through on your own. It's another fucking shit storm. Emotional landmines instead of tactical ones. Verbal bullets and barbed words. Just please, don't hold it back from me. I want to feel what you feel. I want to know what is going on inside your head, please, let me in. Let me be there for you now, like I should have been this whole time._

 _There's a whole stack of letters here that prove you were never far from my mind or heart. I know if only I had sent one. I can't tell you how many times I nearly did add another tally in the column marked regrets. Veronica, I have so many regrets._

 _I know I have no right to ask for another chance. I gave up all hopes of a future together when I left you at our prom. FUCK! I left you standing outside of our prom, fucking pregnant, for your own good!_

 _You were pregnant._

 _And you would both be okay if I hadn't been t the father. You probably would have never even been in that situation if you had been dating someone else. You were too smart for that Veronica, I should have been stronger, but I wasn't and I let us both down. I let our child down. A child I never knew existed and this sadness inside of me, I didn't know anything could feel like this. It feels like my heart is burning out of my chest and I can't for the life of me catch my breath, my throat is raw like I've swallowed razor blades and there's this heaviness, like an anchor that just sits in my stomach._

 _Fuck, Ronnie, if it hurts me this badly…_

 _I'm coming home. To you. For you. For us._

 _I have no delusions, though, you're not just going to leap into my arms and let me back into your life the moment you see me._

 _Hate me for as long as you need to. Just, please, give me one chance. I'll only ask for the one. I know I don't deserve even that, but please, I know you loved me in the same vein and I owe you so much. So much more than you could ever know._

It was him. Every word, the cadence, it screamed Logan Echolls. And while he had been direct across the hall for weeks now it was the first time she felt HIM with her. She held the pages close to her chest as she softly cried. The tears leaked from the corners of her tightly closed eyes, the smiles and smirks his letter had affected replaced by the staggering realization that the man who strode back into her life, really was still that boy she fell in love with. His letter casually bounced between heartbreaking sorrow and cheek, it was classic Logan deflection. It was really, really him.

And she cried, quite a bit more than she wanted to, but she could feel the stirring of hope in the pit of her stomach and uttered a prayer to the powers that be, to let it last.

When she finally looked at her clock it was nearly two a.m. She sat the letter on her nightstand, wiping the tears from her face as she sat up. Glancing at the light switch on the wall, she willed it off, with no luck. She groaned and stumbled towards it, stopping in her tracks when she heard something outside of her room. Even though the noise was muffled, the urgency and panic seeped into Veronica's core. She threw her door open, pausing in the hallway to try and track its source. She took a step down the hallway, toward the great room when she heard it again, the pain resonating like a wave.

"Logan," she whispered, rushing his door and throwing herself on his bed, trying to wrap her arms around his thrashing frame. "Logan! Logan! Please, Lo! Please wake up," she managed to get under him, his head cradled against her chest, her arms tight around his torso. His movements became less erratic and his breathing started to slow back down as she held him, her lips fluttering across his forehead as she tried to soothe him. They were still for a moment as his eyes fluttered awake. He gasped, nearly jumping out of her arms in the process.

"Hey, I've got you, Logan, I've got you."

"Veronica?" He still wasn't fully awake, she could see him trying to focus, the hall light barely enough to illuminate her silhouette. "What are you doing here?"

"You were having a nightmare," he could barely hear her she said it so quietly while she flicked on his bedside lamp. He tensed as it dawned on him what he'd been dreaming about, he could feel her arms hold on to him tighter because of it and he noticed his heart seemed to be skipping important parts of its regular rhythm. She slid one arm out from under him and brushed the hair from his forehead. As her fingers traced down the side of his face he reached up and stilled her hand by capturing it with his.

"Did I wake you?" she shook her head, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she met his eyes. "Why were you up?"

"It's not important. Do you want to talk about what your dream?" He brought their interwoven hands up to his mouth, his lips pressing against the back of her hand as he sighed. She shivered as his cool breath ran the length of her arm, the tears from earlier fighting to surface again. His eyes were closed tightly, tension furrowed his brow but she noticed his body had started to relax. "Does it have anything to do with a bayonet?" His eyes snapped open and locked with hers, they hadn't talked about any of his experiences, how did she…?

"Your dad told you," he posited. An almost imperceptible shake of her head was her only response. His uncertainty lasted only a moment as awareness dawned on him. "You read my letters." There was no question in his voice. A smile began to form and without realizing it he had rested their entwined hands on his chest, just over his heart as she nodded.

"I finished the last one tonight." She shifted slightly under his weight, bracing herself against the headboard as his eyes held her captivated. It had been almost a month that he'd been back and it was the first time she'd allowed herself to really look at him. She'd been so afraid of getting lost in his eyes; they had a force, this power over her she just couldn't control. Now, in the soft glow of the Tiffany lamp, she knew fighting was futile.

"I'm so sorry, Ronnie," the tears filled his eyes, the liquid amber burning through to her very soul.

"No, Logan, not now. We're talking about you," she insisted a she felt the tears well in her eyes. "We have the rest of our lives to talk about us. Right now, I want to know what happened to you. Please?"

 _The rest of our lives? I said that, didn't I? I wonder if he caught it…oh yeah, he did. God, those eyes. Shit. So much for playing it cool, Veronica._

"We should really revisit that slip there, but I'll let it go for now." The blush creeping up her neck annoyed her, he would have to make a big deal of it. He dropped her hand and pulled himself from her lap, sitting back against the headboard next to her. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and when it dropped between them, she took it and laced her fingers with his, giving him a shy smile, urging him on. Squeezing her hand, he tried to draw strength from it, took a deep breath and continued on.

"We were on Peleliu, it's this shitty little island in the middle of the ocean. Miserably hot and humid, my very own slice of Hell. It completely entrenched with Japanese soldiers, they had this ridiculously elaborate cave and tunnel system, and at first, nothing we did touched them. It was bloodbath after bloodbath, stalemate after stalemate. We were about a month and a half in," he swallowed thickly as she scooted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder as he spoke. "My unit hooked up with some replacements, and who is among their ranks but Casey Gant."

Biting her lip, she tries to push down the inevitable dread rising in her chest. Logan's free hand anxiously pulls at his hair, he tries to will the words out but they just don't seem to come. Instead, a sob breaks free, and for only the second time in his adult life, he completely breaks down. Veronica's arms wrap around him instantly as the pain pours from his heart.

"He died, Veronica! In my fucking arms! I am alive right now and Casey, well his parents got a shiny new flag! I'm sure that takes the sting out of losing your child." It was when Veronica flinched beside him that his heart leaped into his throat, the impact of what he had said rippled through him like an aftershock.

"They got a flag…" He opened an eye, as they'd instinctively closed awaiting a slap that never came, and let out the breath he sucked in. "I got three pins in my femur, a few really pretty scars and an unquenchable desire to see your father's head on a platter." His head shook in agreement. "Logan, there was nothing you could have done, not for Casey, not for me, and it's okay. None of the blame lies on you."

"But why? If I couldn't save him, and yet I lived, how isn't in my fault? Did it have to be one of us, when it could have been neither?"

"Or it could have been both! You know that's not how it works, Logan. As much as we'd like to strip life down to its most base equation, it never balances. It's not meant to. Some things just don't add up." He noticed the resignation seep into her voice. For so long she felt the same way if her child had had to die, why couldn't she have gone too? Why just one? It took her a long time to let go of the guilt, the majority of it, there was a piece she could never truly be free of even if she knew it was irrational.

"Don't you remember, Mars?" she quirked her eyebrow inquisitively. "I was never any good at math." She felt the smile tugging the corners of her lips. Logan's shy smile bloomed fully into a grin as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even tighter to him.

"Yes, Echolls, words were definitely more your area of expertise," she tilted her head, looking up at him, his eyes intensely taking in her every move. She was holding her breath and didn't even realize it until he spoke again.

"It wasn't my only area of expertise." Before her brain could register what he'd said, his lips were on hers. Any surprise or opposition Veronica felt was instantly seared away as his hand snaked up through her hair and held her firmly to him. She melted into him, the years of anger and hurt ebbed away leaving only shadows on her heart. There was little tenderness in this kiss, it was instinctive, passionate and longing. Everything they had wanted to express for so long, but could never find words for. When Veronica had gone into her bedroom that evening to read his letter, she never assumed she'd end up in his arms, in his bed, his lips on hers. Right where she belonged, and even if she wasn't quite ready to admit it, the only place she ever wanted to be again.


	8. I'm DreamingNo More

**Please excuse how long it's taken me, and how it seems to go nowhere... I promise it will. This chapter ended up being behemoth so I've decided to split it up, expect it's counterpart much sooner than this took. As always, many, many thanks to those who read, and to those who review, I am eternally grateful. Your thoughts and opinions mean so much, keep it up!**

Veronica had been up for hours, or more aptly hadn't been to sleep yet, hanging paper snowflakes in the windows and rearranging the furniture around the room's latest addition. Juxtaposed between the fireplace and floor to ceiling glass panes that acted as both window and wall, she had spent the last hour meticulously stringing lights on the first real Christmas tree she had since she was a teenager. She tucked the last errant cord into the needles of the blue spruce and took a step back. The tree wasn't terribly tall, maybe seven feet, though it was easily ten feet around at its widest; it was exactly what she had envisioned in this very room the last two Christmases she spent alone. The mantle was festooned with her father's Santa collection, their faces, gilded joy and merriment permeated the room, happy to be freed of the box they'd sat in the last three years. She smiled at the rosy cheeked figures, though her thoughts immediately clouded, shifting to the two men sleeping at opposite ends of the house, who would actually be here with her for Christmas. An unfamiliar feeling welled in her throat as she took in the hundreds of lights twinkling through the branches. Picking up ornaments from the age ravaged box at her feet, she expertly choked back her emotions and continued on her task. There was no logical, or rational reason why she felt this had to be done before they woke, they'd only brought the tree home the night before. Her insistence grew as she failed to fall asleep. Perhaps it was simply because she finally had a reason to celebrate and she wanted to share her happiness with everyone in her life. She placed the last ornament she had on the tree, knowing she'd need more to cover the considerable blank spaces, but was perfectly content with her progress considering the sun had yet to rise.

The carafe, once full of deliciously percolated coffee, sat empty on the kitchen counter. Resigned to another day fully at the mercy of caffeine, Veronica set to brewing another pot, Christmas carols quietly falling from her lips. About halfway through her rendition of "Adeste Fideles" she'd begun making snickerdoodles, without consciously realizing she'd even started to do so. Baking had always been Veronica's favorite therapy, and even though she tried, relentlessly, to cope with everything that had changed, her nervous habit seemed to betray her heart.

"Someone's got the Christmas Spirit this year," a voice surprised her from the hall. Wrenched from her thoughts, the smile that had briefly wavered returned as she turned to face the no-longer slumbering man.

"Father, coffee?" He nodded in response as he took a seat on the stool opposite her. Pulling a mug from the cupboard, she filled it with the freshly brewed elixir and handed it to Keith. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved back toward the oven. After removing the cookie filled trays and replacing them with their uncooked counterparts, she turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Just admiring my darling daughter," her eyebrow quirked at his response as he lifted the coffee to his lips, an appreciative grumble escaping his lips. "Any reason your festive spirit couldn't wait for a decent hour?" Shrugging, Veronica refilled her cup, took two warm cookies from the rack and rounded the kitchen island, taking up the stool next to her father.

"Insomnia and I have been on a first name basis for years now. Christmas is three days away, and after ten, today is full, so I have to get as much done as I can."

"Uh-huh."

"What? It's my first Christmas, too, you know. The last couple are kind of blurry, and I don't want that to do that anymore. I want new Christmas memories, I want singing and laughing and all around jolliness. I finally have my family back, you and Log…" she shook her head, shoving the remainder of the cookie in her mouth to keep the words from escaping, Keith only smiled as he took a bite of his own snickerdoodle.

"Veronica, it's okay to want to be happy."

"Yeah, but Dad, I don't get to have the happy part. Something always, always goes wrong. Did you experience some head trauma in the war? The kind that causes short term memory loss?" His confused expression forced the smile back to her face as she clarified. "Well, apparently you've forgotten all about the fiasco that was Thanksgiving."

"It wasn't that bad," at her scornful look he rejoined, "Okay, it was bad, but, it didn't stay that way did it? No. It forced you and Logan to have an actual conversation, instead of simply communicating in longing glances from across the room." Rolling her eyes, Veronica jumped off the stool and bee-lined for the oven. She took a deep breath after removing the final trays. Yes, things with Logan had been better. They were dangerously close to good, as a matter of fact, which meant implosion at the very least. After their kiss, which she could almost think of without blushing, they'd decided to let it be, let life take its course. But really he was giving her the control, allowing her to make the choices that affected her life. Even without having been there, or perhaps because of it, he knew that's what she needed. To have a say, to be the voice, narrate her own story. When that realization hit, well, it only made her want to kiss him more, but she refrained.

Leave it to her father to reiterate that things were going well. He had to know how deeply her distrust of good things ran. Turning to face him, she realized he'd had come to stand at her side. Keith wrapped his arm around his daughter as her head came to rest on his shoulder.

"I don't know if I've said it enough since I've been home, but, Veronica, I am so in awe of the woman you are. You've worked so hard, just to survive…there were so many times I considered going AWOL, the thought of you going through what you did, alone… It still breaks my heart. I am so, so sorry, sweetie," he felt her tremble and pulled her tight to him. "I promise you, I will never let you down like that. I will never hurt you like they did. I will do everything I can in this life to make right what happened to you."

"Thanks, Daddy," the tears clung to her lashes as she pulled out of his embrace. She gave him a watery smile and continued, "I'm so glad you're home. Of all the stars I wished upon, they heard your name most of all. And I know this," sweeping her hand across the air, gesticulating to the house around her as they grabbed more cookies and headed toward the living room, "well, it's probably not exactly what you'd envisioned for your homecoming."

"I don't know, more and more every day it feels like it…like home. It's awkward and confusing, infuriating and endearing. It's pretty much everything home should be, Veronica."

"Sometimes I feel like maybe I'm really Irene Dunne, and this is just some grandiose production, a raucous little comedy, one where the happy ending isn't scribed in blood."

"Well, that's morose. And no, life is not 'The Awful Truth'. You've had more than your share of pain, though. There's laughter, light and love in this world and when you're ready, it'll be there. I do understand your reluctance to trust it, though."

"Trust? Right, that's the easiest thing for me to do now. How am I supposed to just put myself back out there? How can you actually believe that, Dad, that there's any modicum of happiness in this world, seeing what you saw, knowing what you do? I'm not sure my heart can take additional damages; how do I just put myself back out there like that without assuming the worst?"

"I wish you were just being melodramatic, that I would have a response to. I can only imagine how hard this is for you, kid, but may I offer some advice from a slightly different vantage?"

"Of course," she sat on the high, scallop-backed sofa that centered the tree, her father in the matching green chair to her right. Curling her feet under her, she looked so fragile and small, Keith couldn't help the pain the ebbed through him.

"When you told me you mother left, Veronica, I was so angry. I, well, let's just say I became acquainted with a particular bunk in the brig… Anyway. The animosity I feel toward her has little to do with me; I cannot for the life of me, understand how she could have walked away from you. Our bright, tenacious, beautiful daughter. Our child. Has she ever…" Veronica shook her head sharply, she could sense her father's tension as he tried, and ultimately failed to censor his thoughts from her. "It made me question so many things about myself, the typical 'what if' scenarios ran rampant. I kept going back to how I had failed you, how I wasn't strong enough to protect you from her, and then, the accident. And you were so strong. Mac and Lilly kept me updated when you couldn't, did you know that? They were so scared Veronica, not as scared as me though, God, I would have gone AWOL in a heartbeat if I knew you wouldn't be so disappointed." A reluctant smile flashed briefly before the intensity regained its control, hearing her father speak so candidly about his feelings and her mother was difficult, and yet, cathartic, for them both. "You would have eventually forgiven me for deserting, after I got out of jail, I think. That's why I think you need to forgive us for staying away. You respected Logan enough to let him leave and me enough to understand why I couldn't come back, though it did kill a part of me. You understood, yet hated I know, why he felt he needed to do it without the praise or accolades of being an Echolls, he just wanted to prove himself on a human level, to prove that who he is, is worthy of you. But Veronica, you and I both know that he would have never left you if he had known you were pregnant. The guilt that boy feels over that surely rivals your own, he just hasn't had to carry it as long. And you need to remember that's not entirely his fault. He may have left, but he did not abandon your baby." In her incredibly detailed mental list of the day's activities, crying wasn't on their once, yet here she was in tears again.

"I know," her voice was quiet and low, the steady thumping of her heart in her chest threatened to interrupt any more she may have said. "And he knows that I don't hold him accountable for what happened after he left. That is a pain we will forever share. I could never dream of monopolizing the grief, or guilt, it'll be complex balancing act for the rest of our lives I'm afraid."

"I'm pretty sure that admitting some of the balance in your life will forever rely on another person sounds like, to me, that you want them there. To rely on you, to be relied on, to learn how to trust and love, again."

"It's not about love," she interrupted.

"Come on sweetie, I saw the two of you before and I see you now. It's kind of fun to watch you fall in love all over again."

"Dad!" She couldn't help the blush that warmed her complexion. Shaking off the realization that she was so transparent and apparently wore this love, which she was sure she had buried deep, so boldly upon her person. "It was never love that was the problem between Logan and me," she couldn't help as her eyes flitted toward their hallway. "Right now we're just getting back to basics. We need to see if the people we've become are even compatible." Her father scoffed, then tried in vain to look contrite.

"You know I only want you to be happy, right kid?" She nodded before crossing the room to the stereo and putting her newest Christmas album, an early gift from Logan, on the turntable. "So if being with Logan will make you the happiest, don't fight it. It doesn't mean you have to forget the past, just leave it there." This was not the conversation she wanted to be having this morning, especially not with her father, she'd prepared for a barrage from Mac and Lilly, but this had thrown her completely off her game. With her girlfriends, she could be opaque, she could tell them how things were going without actually expurgating all her feelings. She hated to admit that she would keep her real sentiments to herself, but the thought of burdening her friends with her pain for Christmas was a non-starter.

But with her dad, she was forced to come to terms with every emotion she had been trying to stifle since she had woken up in Logan's arms. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, God, where was her insomnia that night? He said he understood when she woke up panicked. He hadn't pushed the subject, though, she hadn't really allowed the time to discuss the heavy stuff. She had kept him busy shopping and cleaning, their only time alone had been at the grocer or drug store and neither provided the backdrop for serious conversation, and that perhaps had been worse. They had fun; like two kids in love, laughing and playing, forgetting the past to live in the moment. Until she was alone in her room and everything upended.

Of course being with Logan would make her happy. How could it not? It was literally the cornerstone of the life she had wanted since she was twelve. That illusion had been shattered the day he'd left and the realization that no amount of hope, or prayer or love could repair the pieces of her that had been lost the day she'd lost their baby. The guilt she'd been feeling over even the tiniest shred of happiness that her burgeoning relationship with Logan evoked threatened to consume her. Some days she thought being with him was the only thing that would make her feel complete, and on the other days she didn't think either of them deserved to be happy. Not with each other. They'd lost their chance, for whatever reason, and no matter how hard they searched for the why, it would elude them and they would have to accept the point the universe was trying to make.

The pain would last her lifetime, she knew, but she thought she had worked through the guilt. It had taken its time, but the lessons from the women she'd had the pleasure of working with at the factory had finally come to fruition. Reiterated by her father. The past is that. It's passed us by and any chance for change can only happen in the future. The fates may be fickle and can be cruel, but it the choices you make that determine the life you lead. It's in your hands, and yours alone. There was an encounter that ignited her need to find some semblance of peace, when she started looking to tomorrow as a positive thing. And if she had been truly honest with herself then, and now, she'd realize how contingent that serenity was on Logan's return. Whether it was happy or sad news, she'd waited on baited breath for so long just hear his name. Now, here he was.

Here.

Literally in the same space.

Just down the hall.

Just out of reach. Purposefully. Intentionally. Necessary.

"Dad, I don't even know if I'm capable of that kind of relationship again. I'm not that girl, I don't need anyone to take care of me, and, I'm afraid that all I'll do is push Logan away and I can't lose him again. Even if it's only ever as friends."

"Okay, you are not a helpless, damsel who needs saved, however you are a young woman who deserves to be surrounded by love. Look how protective you are of Wallace and Dick, and, you know, the reverse. You fight FOR them, not against them. Don't fight yourself over this. He knows it's a long road ahead, but he's in it for the long haul. He loves you and it's perfectly acceptable to love him back." Tears started to make their way from her eyes again. There was still too much to be done to be spending the morning weeping, yet she couldn't click them off this time.

Somewhere in trying to defend her reasons for keeping Logan at a distance, she'd lost them. Maybe not outwardly, but inwardly she stumbled, the words that had become her mantra, that had kept her strong seemed less true, less real. All she wanted while he was gone is for him to come home, she never believed he would so she never got any further into her fantasy than seeing his eyes again, but she never thought that seeing him would make her so angry. And she was okay with that. She knew anger, it served her well. What she failed to realize was that once the anger faded, and it did quickly much to her chagrin, that it would be replaced with the same intense longing she felt when he was gone. But he wasn't gone anymore. And she could hardly deal with it.

"Wow," Veronica abruptly pulled away from her father and, as casually as she could, wiped the tears from her face, turning to meet the awed gaze directed at her.

"Logan, good morning!"

"Mr. Mars," he acknowledged politely without taking his eyes off Veronica, the warm glow of the lit tree cast a halo of light around her. Swallowing thickly, he finally swept the room, taking in everything from garlands that now adorned the mantle and doorways, to the kitschy baubles they had picked up at the Thrifty that had been transformed into a veritable winter wonderland, and back to the exemplary view of the tree he had. The few ornaments, precariously placed, twinkled as the sun's rays began to peek through the windows.

"I can't believe you did all this," the admiration apparent in his voice as he stepped toward her, "I mean, I believe you did this because, well, you're incredible, I just mean…I dreamed of Christmases like this." His voice dropped just above a whisper, the timbre filling her with warmth. She opened her mouth to respond, but he had stopped moving towards her. "I have something for you." Turning sharply, he walked back toward his bedroom, leaving a bewildered Veronica behind.

"That went we…" she started to her father, turning to face him she realized he was no longer there. "When the hell did that happen?" she questioned aloud. Had she really been that distracted by Logan's presence that she didn't see her father leave the room? Yes, she thought almost immediately. The answer was a glaring realization in light of the morning's conversation. For all her posturing, her dad saw right through her.

"My mother left these in my closet," he reentered the room carrying a rather large box. Broken free of her thoughts, she watched him approach and set the box at her feet. He didn't back away, but stayed at the edge of her periphery, completely within her reach. He pulled the lid off the box, glittering ornaments staring back at her and she couldn't bite back the smile that formed. "They'll surely look better on your tree."

"Thank you, Lo, do you um, want to help me put them on?" The smile on Logan's face crept slowly up his cheeks, his eyes danced with affection as he nodded yes. Blushing at the unabashed joy on Logan's face, she switched the record before starting in on the box; he simply watched her for a moment before he joined in. It was only a few minutes before he heard her suck in a deep breath.

"So, tonight is the revel at Sugar Blue," she started. Her thoughts suddenly a frantic refrain, every fear cast to the wayside as she watched the flannel-clad Logan Echolls sleepily put ornaments on their tree. His mussed hair fell into his eyes, his usually graceful movements slowed to pace with the music.

 _Merry Christmas to you, Veronica Mars, if only he had a bow._

"Ah yes, 'A Victorious Christmas', how could I forget?" Peeking around the he waggled his brows at her until he saw her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and when their eyes met, she was certain it could be felt rippling through the heavens.

"Do you think, maybe," she stepped toward him, her hands wringing in front of her. "Maybe you and I could go…together?" He was afraid to look away, more afraid that if he reached out to touch her she would disappear like she always did in his dreams. When his hand clasped hers and she was still there he smiled, the one that always turned her into a puddle.

"I would love that."

* * *

This is like déjà vu."

"No. We're just going to be in dressing rooms. We're not in LA, we're not kids, this is a very different world than that one."

"I am more than aware of that little fact, Cindy, I was merely remarking that it was one of the last occurrences I spent any substantive time with my two best friends." Sharply looking at the blonde next to her, Mac grinned.

"God, I've missed you, Lil," Lilly turned and beamed sassily, Ruby playing with a doll at her side, she wrapped her arm around Mac's waist and pulled her close. "I do know what you mean, though, it has been far too long."

"Well if someone didn't have to be so smart and run halfway around the world to contribute to the war effort…"

"How else would I have gone to Oxford? My resources were limited."

"No, no, I don't begrudge you that, Mac. We all did what we had to, it just all seemed to be at someone else's expense." Lilly's eyes dropped to the floor, Mac noticed she seemed to grip Ruby closer.

"How long since you've seen her?"

"I was home for the summer. Ruby and I were with Aunt Ronica every second we could spare. She was okay, she seemed to be anyway, but compared to now? I've only talked to her a few times since Mr. Mars and Logan came back, and it's like a switch flipped somewhere. Her voice is lighter, you can hear the happiness; it's actually kind of gross."

"What's gross?"

"Veronica!" Mac's yelling appeared to disrupt the concentration of several passing shoppers. While she and Lilly talked, the store seemed to fill up around them, it was the Saturday before Christmas after all. She mouthed a sheepish sorry as she embraced her friend, tears threatened the corners of both their eyes.

"Oh, it's so good to see you, Ronnie!" Lilly exclaimed as she took her hug, squeezing Ruby between them. "Isn't it, Pea?"

"An' Rona!" Ruby put her hands on either side of Veronica's face, and squished her cheeks together, eliciting a squeal of laughter when Veronica tried to stick her tongue out at her.

"This is better than any Christmas present I could have asked for. The four of us together, having a girl's day before a big night out, I'm so happy! I feel like we need real dates, though, we're too old for the group thing…" the rest of her thought derailed as she took in the hangdog expressions that stole over her friend's faces. "Wait you two have dates? And you didn't think to tell me that I needed one? Before the night of, that is. I mean, I know that I'm Lilly Kane but, notice would be appreciated."

"Lilly, I thought everyone knew that Dick and I were, well, still Dick and I."

"No, I mean, I never heard otherwise but I just assumed your relationship was just another casualty of the war," Lilly shrugged and narrowed her gaze on Veronica. "Who's your date, Veronica?"

"Yeah yesterday I thought you were the group date's biggest proponent," Mac said equally confused.

"Well, that was yesterday. And today, today's a new day."

"Wait, moving on? Who is your date?" Lilly and Mac shared a confused look. Veronica shook her head, laughing and filled her friends in on her conversations with her father and with Logan that morning.

It took only about an hour for each of them to find dresses, considering the havoc Ruby Jo wreaked in the first twenty minutes, Lilly was surprised they'd even lasted that long. She of course tired herself out after a grand temper tantrum, pulling a dark pigtail from its frilly entrapment, she wrapped her fingers tightly around her now loose locks as sleep stole over her big, blue eyes. Lilly left Veronica and Mac to take Ruby to her parents, agreeing to meet them back at the beach house to get ready. Veronica, who had subsisted on only coffee and snickerdoodles up until then, convinced Mac to come with her and grab lunch to go before going back.

"Is this just a one-time thing, or are the two of you officially back together?"

"Honestly, man, I have no idea. I uh, heh, kissed her a couple of weeks ago…" Dick looked like he was going to interrupt but Logan shook his head, "it was an emotional night, for the both of us, so I knew it was more reactionary than anything. But then today, out of left field she asked me if I wanted to be her date tonight." Dick shook his head appreciatively, despite his aloof nature he was a romantic at heart. He wanted nothing more than for Logan and Veronica to just fall right back into where they had been. Now he knew it was absurd, but he couldn't help but feel like they both needed each other more than they did not. He wasn't sure anyone agree with his presumption, he was fairly certain Wallace didn't, but years of knowing the two of them both separately and together reaffirmed it.

"It's a Christmas miracle, my friend," he toasted. "To tonight!"

"To tonight," he sipped at his glass as he heard the female voices flit down the hallway. She and Mac entered the kitchen carrying white paper bags from Luigi's and he swore his heart literally swelled. Something about the smile that adorned her face, or perhaps in was the lilt in her voice when she spoke, maybe he was finally seeing her again. Who she truly was, who she had tried so hard to suppress from him. Whatever it was, he knew that after tonight, everything would be different.

* * *

"Ms. Fennell, you look amazing! The whole place, really, it's a dream!"

"Oh thank you, Veronica, you look lovely as well. All you ladies, really, just stunning. And what dapper young men you've got to escort you! Especially you, Miss Kane," Alicia said winking as she saw her son and his date blush.

"Who'd have thought I could score such a date on the day of the event, huh? The stars must have finally aligned," she said airily, looking toward Veronica and Logan, who'd gone back to ogling one another. Mac caught her as she rolled her eyes, laughing when they'd excused themselves to dance almost the minute they'd gotten there.

"Now you can say déjà vu," Mac joked, trying to turn down her smile as Lilly glared at her. They each picked a glass of champagne off a passing tray and held it to their chests.

"I just hope this ends better than out the last outing."

"It has to."

"Are you citing some mathematical formulation to back this? Law of averages or something?"

"No, I just…look at him, Lilly. He is never going to let her go again and she's going into this with her head, not just her heart, they're starting from a very strong place."

"You think so?" Wallace came up behind Lilly and wrapped an arm around her waist, sipping at his own champagne. Dick, who had come up next to Mac, responded.

"Yes. I do. She does. I think even Miss Kane there does," Lilly held the glass to her lips to try and defer her answer, but the look in her eyes gave it away. All she wanted was for Veronica to be happy and seeing her with Logan again, she looked truly happy.

All Wallace could see was last Christmas, how he and Dick had found her at the bottom of the beach stairs, claiming she had tripped and couldn't remember more. Wallace had carried her to her room and laid her in bed, he and Dick took turns sleeping that night to make sure she was alive. He shuddered at the thought, the image of her lying there was never too far from his mind. She had insisted it was an accident. Swore up and down that it wasn't intentional, that she would never, but he could never quite shake the idea.

"Okay, but can we trust him?"

"It's not about us, Wallace," Mac started. "Veronica trusting Logan isn't contingent on us doing so, but if that's the question then I suppose I don't know. But I do trust her."

"You didn't see it all, Mac. You weren't there when…" Dick shot him a warning glance, they hadn't told anyone about that night and he wasn't about to have it come out in the middle of a Christmas party. "It's just been really hard watching her try to heal, I don't want to see all her hard work cast aside if his pride is wounded again and he takes off."

"Is that what you really think happened last time?"

"No. I know why he left before, I get it completely. I'm even really glad he's back, I just…Look, Vee is like my sister and I just want to make sure she's okay," Wallace met Dick's eyes before turning back to his date. "That's all." She smiled up at him, her gold dress shimmering in the darkened club. "Now may I have this dance?" Lilly handed Mac her empty glass and took Wallace's hand as he led her to the floor. Mac smiled as Wallace twirled Lilly across the floor, recognizing the opening to 'I Fall in Love Too Easily", her eyes found their way to their other dancing friends. The fact there were other people on the floor, let alone the room, was completely lost on Veronica and Logan as they melded into one another. Their dancing was familiar, comfortable, loving, they both looked as if they were exactly where they belonged.

"Did you want to try? I know I wasn't much of a dancer before, so surely now I am much worse, I can't even have two left feet!" She smiled sweetly at her boyfriend and took his hand in hers.

"If you're comfortable with it, we can try." He offered his arm after she had set down the empty champagne flutes, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. They swayed slowly, back and forth, basking in the warmth of each other's presence.

"You know, Miss Mackenzie, you never told me when you're going back."

"I didn't? Hmm, well, perhaps it's because I'm not going back…Mr. Casablancas."

"You're not?" The happy exclamation was punctuated by Dick yelling and pulling her close. "I would swing you around but I have a feeling that would leave us both in a heap on the ground."

"I much prefer this, I think," she whispered from her position, crushed against his chest.

"What's with all the ruckus?" Logan asked as he and Veronica came up next to their friends.

"She's staying, Lo!" Logan smacked Dick excitedly on the back as Veronica and Mac whispered about things they could plan now that she would be home. When Lilly and Wallace wandered over, they couldn't help but feel slightly like outsiders. Wallace stiffened before reaffirming his and Lilly's presence.

"What's going on?"

"She's not going back to England, Wally!" Dick said eagerly. "This calls for more champagne!" He motioned for the server, who complied by bringing a bottle and fresh glasses to the group. They toasted to Mac, and then to Christmas, and then the New Year, and when the bottle was gone, the boys had got another and started the rounds again.

Mac pulled Lilly over with the two of them, moving away from the group to talk more privately.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, I just really wanted Dick to be the first to know," she told her friends whose faces held no amount of animosity, simply curious, Veronica intoned.

"Not that I am complaining, at all, but what brought it about?"

"I missed this so much, my wonderful friends, my family, California and it's bright sunshine and salty air and him, God, I missed his stupid face so much," Smiling despite the fact she knew how cheesy she sounded, Mac couldn't help it, if she was being honest the order of her list would have been reversed, and emblazoned in big, bold capital letters at number one, she'd admit that Dick was really the catalyst.

"You know, I was kind of thinking of transferring out here for my senior year," Lilly said quietly. "Looks like Miss Ruby and I will have to start looking for a place close to Aunt Ronica and Uncle Logan, as I'm sure I will require your babysitting services. Oh my god, and this summer, the whole gang will be back together! It'll be just like old times!" As the last words slipped past her lips, she realized her guffaw and looked to Mac to help cover.

"Stop. The both of you," Veronica interrupted their silent exchange and shook her head admonishingly. "I can actually see the cogs and wheels turning behind your eyes; it is absolutely okay to allude to the good times past without me falling to pieces. I'm fine. And for the first time in a very long time, that's actually more truth than not. While I may not agree that it'll be anything like old times, I still get to spend time with my favorite people, creating new memories, moving forward." Casually, she turned her head in the direction of their male counterparts and managed to catch the next thing they felt compelled to drink to. She had overheard their toasts to life and love and cars and good surf, and managed to keep her eye rolling completely contained to her mind's eye, but when her eye caught Logan's and he raised his glass to:

"The future, whatever it may bring!" she could feel the last remnants of icy sheathe she'd built around her heart melt away. Lifting her glass in response, she downed her less than fizzy champagne and managed a demure smile in his direction before catching the seemingly annoyed glare Wallace was shooting between the two of them. Before she the confusion could register, Dick harrumphed, setting their empty glasses on a nearby table and leading Logan and Wallace away from the crowd, and as much as Veronica would have liked to follow, Dick's sharp look kept her in her place, Lilly and Mac looking at one another utterly surprised that she would actually abided Dick's word. Shaking her head, knowing that whatever was going to happen, needed to, she lead her girlfriends back to the dance floor and went about enjoying the rest of her evening, though it was admittedly harder to dance with one's heart in their throat.

It seemed like they were gone hours, though it couldn't have actually been that long, her eyes constantly scanning the entrance waiting for the hopefully not bloody trio to re-appear. She hadn't been able to drink anymore, her mind had been at the precipice of fuzzy before the altercation and not knowing what was going on had sobered her almost immediately. Knowing that she'd be dealing with whatever the aftermath may be was motivation enough to maintain her newly implemented sobriety.

Dick and Wallace emerged, neither bloodied nor bruised to her relief, without Logan. Wallace seemed lighter, his swagger returned in his confident stride as they made their way back through the crowd. Dick didn't share in his attitude change, but he did seem like a weight had been lifted from him as well, though he couldn't seem to meet Veronica's eyes, he simply motioned back toward the doors with a tilt of his head and a sad smile. She nodded and excused herself from the group, knowing she wouldn't be coming back in, she told her friends she'd see them at the house and said her thank you's to Alicia for the invite.

The cool December night enveloped her in a frosty blanket as she stepped outside, her arms clutching at her sheer, navy shawl that provided no warmth or shelter from the breeze. Shivering, she walked toward the parking lot, her eyes scanning for his lumbering figure and coming up with nothing. She began digging for her keys in her handbag, assuming he started walking as he tended to do when he needed to think something through, when she reached her Continental she noticed something leaning against the passenger door.

"Lo?" She questioned quietly, his red-rimmed eyes lifted to meet hers and in that instant, her broken heart was his, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss away the pain. "Want to go home?"

The ghost of a smile pulled the corner of his lips, the sadness in his eyes receding just a moment as the deep breath worked its way through his lungs.

"I would love to go home," he stood clumsily, allowing her to steady him. Shivering, she wiped the tears that had fallen from his cheeks before he wrapped his jacket around her small shoulders. Her head tilted at the gesture, unabashed love shone from his eyes in that way that could take her breath away. He leaned forward, the anticipation of his lips meeting hers caused Veronica's heart to beat raucously, so much so she was sure he could feel it between them and when his lips came to rest on her forehead, she couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed, though she was thankful that what was sure to be one of those kind of kisses wouldn't be done in a parking lot. She was sure she wasn't ready to publically display her heart for the world to see. He dropped into the passenger seat and when she clicked the radio on, a "Sentimental Journey" filled the car. She rolled her eyes at its irony, maybe their trip back to the house wouldn't be a sentimental journey, but she was certain whatever conversation was about to erupt would be. Lost in her mind, she couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her when he reached across the car and grabbed her hand, tightly entwining his fingers with hers, lifting it to his mouth and pressing tender kisses to each of her knuckles as, she was certain, he whispered apologies between each one. She was going to kick Wallace when she saw him again, even though she wasn't certain, she had a fairly good idea what was discussed, and was none too pleased about what it could portend for her and Logan's relationship.


	9. Nothing Like The Ones I Knew

**Ugh, I don't know why this was so hard to get out, my brain just wasn't cooperating with my heart. Hopefully, they get their shit together so that I can get back to more frequent updates,** **that maybe aren't so dialogue heavy, I tried, I swear but it kept happening.** **Anywho, many thanks to those who are still reading and to everyone who takes a minute to review, I cannot tell you how much it means. You guys are the BEST!**

22 December 1945, cont...

Logan stared at himself in the mirror. He studied the visage staring back at him; sure he was recognizable under deep bronze tone his skin had developed after years in the unforgiving South Pacific sun, but he knew less and less how to reconcile the man he became with the boy he was, somehow, still mistaken for. His face, hollow, eyes, haunted, pain and anger leaving their calling cards in the creases of his brow, it was all so obvious, wasn't it? He tried to shake off the guilt that was seeping to his belly, replace it with righteous indignation, but as he threw his tie across the room he knew it was useless. He was never more ashamed of his actions than he was that night, with her two, his former, best friends flanking him and telling him she could have died. Again. And that time it was really, truly, unmistakably all his fault. Angrily, he spun on his heel, stalking back to his dresser to grab clothes to change into when his eyes stuck on the small cigar box on top. With a heavy a sigh he flipped open the top.

The assortment of additional cardboard boxes inside brought with them a myriad of emotions he thought he had dealt with before he had even stepped foot on that ship from Korea. This was why he had gone, to prove to her, that he was worth it. As many times as he tried to convince himself that his intentions were purely altruistic or that it was for his benefit, and his alone, it dawned on him that the boldest lies we tell are often to ourselves. Sitting on his bed, half-dressed, with his box full of accolades the magnitude of his absence struck him. How different their lives would be had he stayed? But would they really have been better? The two of them, or more so, just him as a parent, the boy he was before. Sure, he had always strived to be better, he would have gone to a good school, been capable of supporting a wife and child, but God, the scars he bore. No love was balm enough to assuage the pain that had sometimes torn through him. No, she had done all she could to help him heal and still he only could see the weakness he'd leave in his wake. Aaron made sure of that. And Veronica deserved strength and courage, so he left.

Maybe if he had been stronger to begin with he would have sent a letter. And she could have responded. They could have dealt with life together, maturely, but he wasn't and they didn't, and now he had to deal with more revelations that had at least some correlation with his leaving. He threw the box against the wall, contents escaping their enclosures, littering the floor with bold colors and metallic sheen. His hands, usually strong and sure, shook warily as they ran through his hair. Laying back on his overly-plush pillows, his thumb and forefinger sought the bridge of his nose trying to ward off a headache that was bound to hit like freight.

"Logan, are you okay?" She asked from the doorway. He was so lost inside his head he hadn't heard the door open. Her hair still pinned in place though her dress had been replaced by faded flannel that was far too big for her small frame. Those were his formerly favorite pajamas, nearly threadbare when he'd left, he wasn't surprised to not find them in his drawer assuming they had been thrown away. Apparently he wasn't the only one who tried to find solace in mementos and that thought alone constricted his already aching heart. When she moved toward the bed she stopped, bending down to examine what had been strewn about. Gingerly, she picked up each medal and put in back in the box with its corresponding ribbon.

Logan swept over her profile, gaze locking on her averted eyes. He'd dreamed their blue so many times he swore he could pick them out anywhere, for they were the blue of the California sky, hopeful and bright. But that was not his Veronica, it was never his Veronica. And while his mind perpetuated that youthful exuberance while he'd been gone, the realist had turned to cynic, the sharpness was cold and cutting, her edge never wearing off, only softening for brief interludes. He could see the razors edge, even in the din, but there was something else lurking there too. He was reminded of oppressively humid beaches cloaked in a haze of gunpowder and smoke. That's the blue they were now. Paradoxically bright and dull all at once. He ran a hand up the back of his head as he tore his eyes from her form. None of his nervous gesticulation had changed, he was impossibly unsettled by that moment, before him flashed everything he'd envisioned for his future, smothered out by a type of pain that left too many scars to ever truly heal. And then he wondered if she, if only for even a second, saw the similarly reflected fog that seemed to cloud his every thought. His mind replayed every conversation they had since he'd been back, all the tears they'd shed, all the frustration that seemed to accompany as she pushed him away every time he thought he'd gotten closer. Today had been different, of that he had been certain. She had come to him, open and vulnerable, and here she was again, no hasty retreat back into her subconscious, here, trying to get him to talk to her. When he got the nerve to look at her again, she was working on putting the last few items in his box, when it dawned on her what was in her hands. Eyebrow quirked, she held the item out questioningly.

"You're really going to ask me about that while wearing my pajamas?" Her face scrunched in mock contempt.

"Fine, I suppose we're even then. Though this," standing, she pointed to herself, "is far less weird than having one silk stocking in a cigar box."

"It's the one thing I have from the best night of my life, Veronica, I didn't intentionally steal it…I just happened to find it, and then not return it to you." She smiled impishly as she folded the hosiery, placing it back in the box, once again sat on the dresser.

"Well, as long as they're not spoils of war, I suppose I'll let it slide. C'mon, finish changing and meet me in the living room. You can brood just as easily in front of the fire."

* * *

"So, do you want to tell me what happened with Wallace and Dick?"

"Not particularly," he said pithily. Logan could feel his heart in his throat. Wallace had blindsided him at the party and even though he had recovered, or perhaps sobered, enough, he didn't want to completely dispel the magic that had engrossed the both of them earlier. He wanted to feel her in his arms again, to see the smile that had warmed the room permanently embossed upon her face, he wanted to believe the shadows from her were permanently banished and the darkness that seeped through were merely reflections from the fire's light.

"No?"

"Veronica, can we please, just not yet," he implored, his shaky hand setting the mug on the coffee table before turning his disheartened face back to hers.

"Look, I know he's taken issue with this, with us, but whatever he said…that's his opinion. It's not…"

"That's not what this is about, Ronnie, and while he did threaten my looks if I ever hurt you again, it wasn't about us getting back together."

"Then what was it? What could he have possibly told you that upset you so much if it didn't have to do with us?"

"Oh, it very much had to do with us, and how I proceed as we move forward; he wanted to fill me in on some things that appear to have just slipped your mind."

"Excuse me?" He felt her recoil, confusion and hurt marring her face. This was the first time since Logan had been back that he had been upset WITH her, and you could see she wasn't sure how to take it.

"What happened last Christmas, Veronica?" Red rose up her neck, her eyes gleamed with indignation as he scooted closer to her.

"That, that was an accident, Logan," she said, her words erupting in fumbling breaths.

"Caused by what?" she had moved as far away from him as the couch would allow, the arm was now painfully crushing her from behind, but he kept invading her space. He would not relent.

"I thought we weren't doing this tonight," she mumbled and he could swear he felt his lip quirk, but her vexing gaze proved his body hadn't betrayed him.

"Nope, you pushed so I want to know everything, Ronnie, everything. As bad as it got, I need to know it all, if we ever want to be able to get back to where we were."

"Logan, there are too many tears to track. I can't possibly tell you about all the bad times because, as frequent as they were, they were also fleeting. And yes, one of my coping mechanisms wasn't always helpful, and it certainly doesn't mean it was the one I most often employed. Wallace only ever saw the really bad, because that's when I needed the help to get back up, and in the instance of last Christmas it is literally true, but I always picked myself back up in between. I am not my mother. My drinking is not a problem. Not anymore, anyway, I have too much to lose now," her voice had fallen to a mere hush, her arms wrapping protectively around herself and he wanted nothing more than to replace them with his own. "And I don't know if I want to be back to where we were. We're not those kids anymore and I want this," she motioned frantically between them, "these two adults who have shared so much and lost so much and loved so, so much; I want them to have a clean slate."

"I do too, Veronica, but I can't put this off. I can't get this image out of my head and," he shook his head vehemently. "Everything. Tonight. No more lies of omission or half-truths or lying to protect each other, if you really want this HALF as much as I do, you'll talk to me."

"All we do is talk about the past, Lo, and I am so tired of looking back..."

"This isn't about looking back for the sake of dredging up pain, though, Ronnie," he interrupted, his long arms closing the distance between them as he took her small hands in his. "This is about burying it for once and for all, and leaving it there." Her mouth opened as if to retort but snapped quickly shut as her eyes bore through him. Before he could even try to comprehend the look on her face, the tears had begun their well traversed decent down her cheeks. Her body seemed to move without conscience thought, or effort as she crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as she cried. The dumbfounded expression quickly faded as he held the now sobbing woman in his arms.

"Veronica, please, don't cry. I'm not mad. I swear. I am so, so sorry I wasn't here, knowing what you went through, I can't…I'm just so scared because I can't lose you," pressing his lips to her hair, he held her close as the sobs began to subside and fade to soft hiccups. Minutes passed, or maybe hours, when he faintly heard her voice.

"I know you want to hear the details of that night, and I wish I remembered exactly what happened, but after a certain point, it's just fuzzy."

"Can you tell me what had you so upset?" He could feel her eye-roll even though he couldn't see her face, she pushed out of his embrace, still sitting on his lap but infinite distance between them.

"I don't know if you remember this or not, but Christmas was a pretty big deal to me. And after two less than memorable Christmases with Vinnie Van Lowe, having Wallace and Dick back meant some semblance of normalcy," she shook her head grimly. "Turns out there's nothing left of that life to go back to Logan, that normal is a fallacy."

Her eyes fixated on the empty space between them, nervously picking at a loose button on her top as she shared how the nostalgia of Dick and Wallace's return wore off rather quickly as she realized how damaged they were. The combined force of trying to help them pick up the pieces of their shattered illusions and trying to maintain her own wore her down, instead of focusing on her own healing, she worked tirelessly so that they could have at least one good day. Of course, it would happen to be her worst, since the accident at least.

"That was the night I lost hope. The only one. I had made up my mind that you were never coming back and if you did, you wouldn't want anything to do with me. I lost our baby and the thought that you would have never known about, what happened, God, I got so angry. So I drank. Out of spite, out of pain and fear and I just wanted to stop the barrage of feelings that hit. I went out back with every intention of watching the sunrise…it always made me feel close to you, as silly as that sounds, but I didn't get to see it that day. Why wasn't I enough for you? Why couldn't you just let me know you were alive?" Veronica's dagger like eyes locked on his, their exacting edge cut through all the pretense he'd used to shield himself to this point.

"Veronica," exasperation coloring his words, his hands moved to find her waist again but before he could make contact, she stood, leaving only the shadow of the warmth her body had emitted pressed against his. "I just couldn't, okay? It's not like I didn't want to know…"

"Oh, funny, how disappearing after our prom, joining the Marine Corps under an assumed name, and not once reaching out to anyone who knew you really proved you cared what was going on."

"After everything you've seen and read, you actually think I didn't care?" He was standing now too, his hands balled into fists at his sides as he watched her walk over to the fireplace.

"Actions, Logan."

"Actions? Please tell me, was your swan dive off the patio stairs an intentional action?"

"I think I've made it perfectly clear that it wasn't. What exactly did Wallace and Dick tell you?" he sighed loudly, the realization the conversation had taken a course he hadn't planned for.

"That you fell. That you had been drinking but ever since then, have been exceptionally attentive when it came to actual consumption. That they just wanted me to be aware, because as you may have noticed, I was nearly three sheets myself…and they didn't want you to have to take care of me. It kills me, Ronnie, that they know you better now. It made me realize how little I really know about how hard these years have been on you, not matter how many times, or how earnestly I say I understand."

"Is this the future we have to look forward to? Every time you get sad about how things happened after you left, and then I get angry that I feel any guilt for your sadness because I know you care, but I won't apologize for how I got through it. That girl you knew; the sweet, naïve, 'Susie Homemaker' who dreamed you'd marry, the one you romanticized in your mind, she's gone. If she ever actually existed Logan."

"You cannot possibly think that all I wanted you for was to pop out three-point-five kids in our two story Tudor with lushly green lawns enclosed in pristinely picketed white fencing? Fuck!" He took a moment, evening his breathing and gathering the words he wanted to convey, stepping in front of her he placed his hand under her chin and tipped it up to meet his eyes. "You were the most fiercely independent twelve-year-old I'd ever met. You didn't cry when you fell down, or when mean boys picked on you, you fought back with every ounce of sass your tiny body possessed," when he saw her fighting off a smile he continued, "You fought so that every kid in Neptune could play at the same park, even when some of our friends didn't exactly see eye to eye. You told my parents I was worth fighting for when I didn't believe it, or deserve it. You never backed down from a challenge, or correcting injustice, whether actual or merely perceived. You were never this shrinking violet you seem to think I've painted you as, that idyllic vision was never going to be our life. I am not Duncan, and you, Veronica Mars, are not Meg and that bullshit façade of happiness would not have been us, because whatever it is between us is more real than that. You don't just look pretty on my arm, or fill the doting debutante roll well, you make me want to do more. Be more. Be enough," his hand slid up her face, thumb passing gently over her cheekbone. She nodded into his hand, a soft smile turned from her lips as the coldness in her eyes seemed to melt away.

"I know it's kind of cold, but, um, do you maybe want to get some blankets and hit the beach? It's getting late and I'm sure everyone will be back soon, and I want to end this night how it started, just you and I, in the place where we're moving forward. I just want us, just a little longer, please?"

"Of course," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. Her father and Vinnie were doing some last minute surveillance, he learned as she fetched the blankets from the linen closet. San Diego, she had said, and they weren't expected back until at least the next afternoon. He swallowed thickly as he took the blankets from her hands and carried them down to the beach.

All the words she'd said continued to swirl around Logan's mind. Dick had vehemently denied that Veronica's fall had been a misbegotten suicide attempt but Wallace had been unconvinced. At least initially. Now he seemed to believe her but still erred on the side of extreme caution. She swore it was an accident and he believed her, but it wore his heart that she could ever feel so low as to drink away her Christmas. He'd always imagined her celebrating with Mac and Lilly and whatever man she'd made fall madly in love with her. As much as he'd hoped and dreamed it wouldn't be, he was certain she'd have moved on. In his dreams she was happy and loved, he thought he'd left her for the chance, she could live without all the bullshit that accompanied the Echolls name, but that seemingly made it worse.

Thoughts of his mother flitted in as he laid the first blanket down. It was over a month that he'd been back and still, not a word, not from anyone. Lynn had saved Veronica, knew even when neither of them did that the fates would bring them back together. She would love the house right now, he thought. The decorations, the warmth, the love that actually seemed to seep from the walls, whether it be from Keith or Veronica or even himself. Seemingly anyone who spent more than five minutes inside could feel it too. It was every feeling he ever wanted from that house; family. It hit with startling clarity just how much he missed his mother. The faint Christmas carols that bellowed from the house above which twinkled in festive splendor ignited all of those memories of Christmases past, where his mom had tried to maintain a smile and give him the happy holidays they usually reserved for the cameras.

"Logan?" Veronica questioned quietly as she watched his expression turn sullen. He forced a smile as he sat, beckoning her to sit between his legs, blankets enveloping them as they watched the dark surf.

"You wouldn't have seen or heard from my mother in the past few months, would you?" Shaking her head, she laced her fingers between his and pulled them as tightly around her as she could.

"Last I knew she was going to New York, and that was close to a year ago. I'm sorry, I should have kept up contact but…"

"No, no, that's not on you, Ronnie. I've been back for a month, made myself known through all the proper channels and no one has reached out. If that doesn't speak volumes about my family. Well, my blood family," he corrected as he felt her completely relax against him, still holding onto him tightly but the fear of her fleeing completely subsided. "You are my family. Our friends and your dad, and even Vinnie I suppose, we're family." He kissed her temple before fulfilling the silent promise to explain the contents of the box he'd thrown earlier. Regaling her with stories of his war, they stayed on the beach as wrapped up in each other as they were before, like two kids in love, letting the rest of the world fall away as they learned each other again.

* * *

23 December 1945

"Mac. Mac! Ciiinnddyy!"

"What time is it?" she croaked as she tried, in vain, to rub the sleep from her eyes.

"Just after ten," Veronica said cheerily, holding a steaming mug in front of her friend. Mac willed herself semi-upright and relieved the saucer from Veronica's hand.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "I swear; I didn't drink that much…. did I? Ugh, I feel like I might have."

"What, they don't drink in England, Mackenzie?" Her cocked brow urged Veronica on. "Just chalk it up to jet lag, unexpected emotional upheaval, and good liquor."

"You seem well versed in the phenomenon."

"Ah, yes. My life in color three years running, minus the jet lag of course. No Mac, not that face, it's fine. Actually, things are better than fine, life is only looking up."

"Whoa, all this positivity first thing in the morning is going to throw off my whole day," Mac ran an exaggerated hand across her forehead when she noticed Veronica's eyes become as large as the saucer that held her tea cup.

"What is that?" She squealed excitedly.

"Oh, that, well…Dick may have kind of, sort of, proposed last night…"

"What?!"

"Shh! You'll wake them!"

"Mac, there is no one here but you and me." Looking around the empty bedroom it dawned on Mac that they were indeed alone and that she wasn't exactly sure where she was.

"Where are they?"

"Dick and Wallace passed out in the den, Lilly is in the guest room, I think, and you, you're in my room."

"Ah, wait! Where'd you sleep then?" Blushing, Veronica quickly turned her head. "What!?"

"Now who's in danger of waking up those feral beasts, you wake 'em, you feed 'em!"

"Whatever, deal, now details!" Mac implored.

"Fine, but only after you tell me how Dick 'kind of proposed'. How does one kind of…" with a look she was silenced and let Mac tell her about the rest of their night at Sugar Blue. It turned out Dick hadn't been too pleased that Wallace had told Logan about last Christmas. He had always believed her accident was just that, considering that she hadn't tried anything after she'd nearly been killed and lost her child, he couldn't imagine her not being strong enough to get through anything else. He and Wallace were terse for a while but came to an understanding when they realized they were both right and wrong, which of course had been pointed out by their exceptionally perceptive dates.

"After the testosterone induced chest beating and proclamations of best friendship, I don't know, it was almost like a flip switched in Dick. He dragged me off to the dance floor and decreed his undying love."

"So, something new?"

"Right? I didn't realize how serious he was until he tried to get down on his knee," Veronica cringed at the thought, sober one-legged Dick could be awkward, drunk, however, could not have been good. "Yet somehow he managed to keep his balance, propose and pull this ridiculous ring out of thin air." It was indeed ridiculous, it looked like an iceberg mounted in filigree on her dainty hand. Dick was never one for small, his sentiments as well as his feats, always seemed to register on a grander scale. Veronica was happy for her friends, but couldn't help but feel a little jealous and when she realized Mac was waiting for her to respond, the mental berating began.

 _How selfish can you be, Veronica? Happiness is not exclusive to you._

"Mac," she said as the tears welled, "Explain how this was a 'kind of, sort of' proposal? I'm pretty sure this ring could power a small country! I am so, so happy for you!" she pulled her into a tight hug as voices started to filter down the hall from the kitchen. Not a minute later the door opened, letting Lilly, sleep addled and quite possibly still drunk, into the room.

"Please tell me there's coffee somewhere," she said into the mattress as she dramatically collapsed on the bed next to Mac. Offering her tea, Lilly begrudgingly accepted the lukewarm beverage claiming it would do. While Veronica caught the girls up on what happened with her and Logan, she heard the doorbell. She was in no state to answer but her curiosity got the better of her as she slinked down the hall to catch whoever was on the other side. She saw Logan approach the door, grinning from ear to ear, probably laughing at something lewd Dick remarked. The door swung open as the bell chimed again, the smile dropping from Logan's face as the sound faded into the void. She saw the rigidity set it, his spine ramrod straight as she hastened her approach before two words stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Hello, son."


	10. If Not Merry, Be Bright

**Many apologies for the tardiness of this chapter. I am desperately trying to catch up! I promise I won't let it drop, just stick with me! Thank you to everyone who reads, and especially to those who review. I love hearing your thoughts, so leave some love :)**

 **Also, many many many many thanks to Bondopoulos for her amazing beta work! Without her, this chapter would be a hoootttt messs (and frankly, so would I).**

23 December 1945

(Logan POV)

Logan warily eyed the men in front of him. His father stood center, looking posh and polished from head to toe, ever ready to be captured in print, while the man to his left, whose fedora sat low on his brow, practically melted into the shadow Aaron's larger-than-life ego cast. For a moment blood pounded through Logan's veins as if he were back in combat. Except this time his instincts seemed to fail him. The carefully construed speech he'd prepared for this very moment remained lodged in his throat. Each and every word that he'd painstakingly chosen to relate his disdain, to defend his actions, to declare sovereignty, fizzled on his tongue as Aaron's acid-laced smile sent him back to a time when he had been too weak, too young to fight back. Logan reflexively pulled at his sleeves, shrinking into his clothes as if they were armor, as he fought to maintain what ground he tremulously held.

"I asked if you were going to let us in, son," Aaron repeated tersely. His weight shifted from foot to foot, as if bored, as he adjusted his cufflink. It was almost as if the word were a clarion call, the triggers of Logan's past melted away, and now, with war-shadowed eyes and absolute clarity, he observed the man in front of him. _Son_. That bastard thought he could still call him son. In the past three years, the two men who'd addressed him with that moniker treated like he was actually blood, rather than just the body that bore his name. Logan's head cocked as his now steady hands clasped in front of his chest.

"No, Aaron, I am not letting you in. Not into my home, not into my life. As a matter of fact, I would be okay if I never saw you again. Now kindly move along." Logan shooed them away with a sweep of his hand. Now Aaron's anger showed, evident in every feature.

"I know you think that you're a man now, but before God, I swear, Logan, I will remind you of where you stand, you little piss-ant."

Aaron's move to the door was interrupted by a small, blonde-haired body that carefully nestled itself between Logan and doorjamb. The surprise on her face quickly turned to disgust as Aaron stepped back, his familiar sneer firmly in place.

"Ah," he surmised, "If you were fucking the help, Logan, that's all you needed to say."

"I'm sorry, I should have stated more clearly… _our_ home. You will never, ever, be welcome in _our_ home, Aaron."

"How quaint. After everything, you two finding your way back to one another," Aaron hissed, dramatically clapping his hands in mock celebration. "It's just like the pictures. Maybe even a happy ending this time?"

Logan watched as Aaron's sharp eyes focused directly on Veronica, her hands reflexively covering her abdomen. Logan pushed his body in front of hers, effectively obscuring Aaron's line of sight.

"I believe he asked you to leave," Veronica's voice was strong from her position behind Logan's torso.

"I promise I will do just that as soon as I talk to Lynn."

Perplexed, Logan looked at Veronica, whose expression mirrored his own. Neither of them had seen nor heard from her yet. When Logan revealed this to Aaron, he looked unconvinced between the two, processing the news as if it were bad wine. It was obvious in his affectation that he did not believe them.

Logan could see how it would seem unlikely that, without laying eyes on his mother, he had been able to slip completely under the radar to become vastly wealthy while. None of these things would lead to a happy Aaron Echolls. "To be honest, I was hoping you'd be able to answer that question. None of her associates in LA have heard from her, and apparently, she's not been seen in the press since she was last seen with you in Paris."

"It's been quite a long time since your mother, or myself, have been in Paris. I thought she was in New York. That's what my contacts had told me, but I was unable to locate her. So after New York had run its course, I checked LA. She's not there, either. And then a little bird told me that you were here, so naturally, I assumed she would be as well. I'm not leaving until I see her. This is my house, dammit, and I will not be dismissed!" Rage tracked through Aaron as if he were a thermometer; with each word, the red rose up his face, soft at first, but rising with his voice, deepening with conviction. Clearly, he was used to his childish tantrums yielding results.

"I'm pretty sure Logan told you to leave, Aaron. More than once by my count," Keith Mars, flanked by Vinnie Van Lowe, purposefully walked up the path to the door, effectively cornering Aaron and his associate.

"And I do believe Veronica, who is a legal resident of this address as well, also asked them to leave. Non-compliance with the homeowner's wishes could be cause for detainment, isn't that right Keith?"

"You are absolutely correct, Vin." Keith moved to stand on the other side of his daughter, bristling past the imposing lunk that still stood as Aaron's reserve.

"Keith Mars. Am I to assume you live here as well?" Aaron asked curtly, extending his hand toward Keith who simply looked at the outstretched appendage as if it were grotesquely deformed.

"As a matter of fact, I do reside here for the time being. And to clarify, again, Lynn is not here. She hasn't been here since Logan and I returned from duty. As far as I've heard, while doing actual detective work rather than listening to the chirping of little birds, she hasn't been in southern California for over year."

Logan looked sharply at Keith. They'd never discussed looking for Lynn, and while Veronica didn't look completely caught off guard, it appeared that no one had more information regarding his mother than he did. With quiet reserve, Logan swore to himself that after the holidays were done that's what he'd do; he would find her. He would try, anyway.

"Now, what I think these kindly people are trying to say—again—is leave, _now_." Vinnie casually slid his hand onto his hip, purposefully revealing the Colt revolver he carried, its mother-of-pearl inlaid handle sparkling in the early afternoon sun.

At the sound of his associate's throat clearing, Aaron met each of their eyes again, catching the faces that loomed behind his son, looking defiant. He turned sharply on his heel, followed closely by his companion, and walked briskly to their waiting vehicle.

* * *

(Aaron POV)

"At least today wasn't a complete bust."

Aaron felt his face burning. _I am no closer to finding Lynn than I had been weeks ago._ "How can you possibly say that? We have nothing!"

"Not nothing. We know that Lynn isn't here and that despite their efforts, they don't know where she is either," he explained.

 _Is this some kind of joke?_ "How exactly is that not nothing?"

"Because now we just have to watch them. Cautiously. Did you see that girl, that boy? There's no way they'll let this rest now."

Aaron's couldn't contain a smirk forming on his lips. _Finally! It's about time I got my money's worth out of this guy._

Clarence Weidman's eyes practically twinkled. "They'll lead us right to her. None of the hard work, all of the benefit; we couldn't ask for a better Christmas present, Mr. Echolls." His smile matched that of his employer, sardonic and cold, as they drove away from what was just a very happy home.

* * *

24 December 1945

(Keith POV)

"We do not need a ham, Veronica," Keith argued tiredly. Setting his glasses on top of the newspaper, he ran his hand over the sparse hairs that grew on his head and steeled himself for the inevitable fight.

"Dad, I really don't understand why my getting a ham is such a big deal. I think it was your idea as a matter of fact. It's already taken care of, I just need to pick it up, and the butcher is only open until noon today. So, if that's all…" she made a move to leave but hesitated a moment when she looked at his face. "I have to leave the house, Dad."

"Do you? I don't see why Logan, Vinnie or even I can't pick up what you need today." He was tired; coming back from war to be thrown into this level of dysfunction was wearing his every nerve. And the fact his daughter seemed to be so lackadaisical about that monster's return put him on guard at a level he'd never known existed.

"Never once, not in my early years, not in my teens, and especially now, have I been so scared that I couldn't do for myself. There were times I didn't have a choice, and soldiering on was the only viable option, so I did it. And I'm here because of it. And, Aaron Echolls, that sad, pathetic excuse for a man, will never hold enough power over me that I can't live my life or leave my home."

Keith Mars couldn't hold back the pride from his eyes, or maybe it was the tears that bristled on his lashes that burned. Either way, he nodded his acquiescence and accepted the kiss on his brow before she walked out the door, hating every second she was out of his sight.

* * *

(Veronica POV)

The department store wasn't half as busy as she'd expected. Sure, people were there picking up last minute gifts for unexpected guests, but the underlying mood of this Christmas was somber, even against the glittering backdrop that the war-free world provided. So many still not home and many more never coming back; she shivered as she picked the last item on her list up from the service counter. She'd ordered it weeks ago and was promised it would be in before Christmas. With only one day to spare, it had arrived and was now tucked lovingly into her pocket.

"Veronica?" The voice that came from behind her immediately triggered dread, every hair on her body stood on end as the panic stuck in her throat. Its slimy baritone permeated the deepest recesses of her soul as she struggled to hold in her sick. She turned slowly, meeting his eyes with defiance.

"Mr. Echolls." Her voice was cold and strained, her throat closing more each second she was exposed to him.

"You look well," he schmoozed as if she should be disfigured, or limping at the very least. _Oh, right. I'm supposed to be dead._ It was as if a switch had been flipped, and her fear abated. Replacing it, however, was a rage, a hatred that Veronica never knew she was capable of. The antipathy reinforcing her stance, her voice, her heart. It was a cathartic healing, one she hadn't anticipated, but it appeared. _Looking into the face of evil is much less scary when you realize what garbage the man is._

"I am well. Mrs. Echolls' generosity after the incident was so kind, and of course, much appreciated." While the crowd wasn't large, they all seemed clustered about, forcing an absurd level of forced pleasantry.

"Of course, Lynn loved you like a daughter. And I suppose that's what you would've been had that no-good son of mine up and left you. And then your drunkard mother? Did they both know you were with child?"

"She knew. While it clearly did nothing to stop my mother from leaving, I am certain it would have stopped Logan. I didn't even know myself when he left." Her nostrils flared angrily as he stepped closer to her. She tried to suppress the shudder that coursed through her, fought the bile scouring the back of her throat, the sound of his scoffing burned through her like a match.

"Logan should be dead, Veronica, and I'll never understand how he's not. I'd been so relieved that, though I have no other male heirs, his weaknesses would not be passed down to the next generation. That his progeny would not be the ones, thankfully, to carry on the Echolls legacy…it was truly a blessing."

"It's so unfortunate that you feel that way. Logan is a wonderful man, infinitely better than you could ever dream of being. He's loving and compassionate and supportive; he's completely selfless, even if he doesn't know how to go about it." She chuckled to herself and continued. "And rest assured, we can get to working on heirs relatively quickly."

The sardonic smile that crept across his face amplified the cruelty that lay within the popular actor. He reached forward and grasped a strand of Veronica's hair before she could side-step his reach.

"If the job was done correctly," he leered, "and I am certain it was, then we'll never have to worry about you carrying Logan's children. Especially since he'd be crazy to marry you, sullied woman that you are. You should probably find God, turn yourself over to the Lord. Best of luck, Veronica."

He brushed past her, stopping and turning back after a few steps.

"When you find my wife, tell her I'll be in LA." Before she could question his words or actions, he added, "You know, don't worry about it. I'll know as soon as you do…birds, you know." With a wink and flourish, he was gone, and she was left to deal with the aftershocks for the rest of the day.

* * *

25 December 1945

The sun rose the next day. And the one that followed. All of Veronica Mars' dreams that the world would simply cease to exist before Christmas had failed to come to fruition. As if merely getting through the next twenty-four hours wasn't enough, the gods decided that for the first time in as long as she could remember that December should suddenly feel like December. The breeze picked up the sand, algid as it swept up her robe and bit into her ankles. She shivered, though she wasn't certain it wasn't merely from the cold. Aaron was back, his presence, lingering in her subconscious; in every silence, she heard his voice lurking in shadows from which there was no escape. Lights from the tree in the house above burned her thoughts into focus. Christmas morning carried on, and all across the world families celebrated, more mourned, in its first peacetime observance in too many years. This was her gift. Against all odds her boys had come home, and she got to be there to share the future with them. And yet, the harshest reminder of what they had lost had shown up on their literal doorstep, throwing the carefully crafted semblance of normalcy into a tailspin. She hated that the anger that burned in her stomach threatened her happiness, forced her to face the reality that lay ahead. Justice. The idea of Aaron Echolls paying for his crime—crimes—well, it would be her gift to Logan, albeit the delivery would be a bit late.

With a resigned sigh, she trudged up the steps, fueled by false bravado and a crudely affixed smile. It was Christmas after all, and she'd had plenty of practice perfecting her casual contentedness. Walking through the patio doors, the smell of bacon permeated her senses, invoking the minutiae of Christmases past that caused her well-acted façade to slip. The radio trilled in the background, prerecorded happiness that couldn't compare to scene in front of her. Logan at the stove, hair still disheveled, hanging lazily across his brow as he worked tirelessly to cook the perfect bacon. The cast iron griddle stretched the breadth of the stove, his bacon sizzled effortlessly on the right as Keith manned the left, flipping pancakes with gusto. They smiled and laughed, falling into an easy routine, neither noticing Veronica had come in from outside.

Veronica knew it was Logan who'd turned on the tree, her sign that someone was watching, waiting…she still wasn't used to that. The sight in front of her constricted her heart; the easy smile her father wore whenever he and Logan were together reaffirmed the decision she had made. The man who stood beside her father, with his boyish face and tortured eyes, the same one who'd left her shattered, was the one who best reassembled the mess. Her heart broke and rebuilt in the same breath, for the millionth—and presumably not last—time. Involuntarily, and completely unbeknownst, her breath hitched, alerting Keith and Logan to her presence.

"Everything okay, sweetie?" She swallowed down whatever tears remained and nodded sweetly at her father. With a glance back to Logan, she inhaled deeply, just a hair on the melodramatic side and her lips blossomed into a true smile.

"Bacon? You do love me!" Logan lowered his curious brow and shook his head in mock disapproval.

"Is bacon the only thing I can give you that will prove…"

"Yes. Always yes. Honestly, when was the last time either of you had bacon?"

They looked at each other and shrugged. Years, she imagined. She hadn't even thought to make it. The government had only recently begun to lift the rations, and even then supply was iffy. When Keith had inquired as to her wartime bacon consumption she'd explained that sugar was a much higher priority. She'd often traded her bacon away for confections. Everyone needed a pick me up, and cookies always seemed to have that effect. She didn't have the capacity to deal with people on an individual level so baking became her way to contribute to the mental welfare of her community.

As they ate, they discussed more of what Veronica had done over the past few years and what the States had been like during the fighting. She told them about the factory and the other women who worked there; she enjoyed describing how driven and proud they were of the work they were doing for their country. She tactfully managed to give them a glimpse of her life without her having to actually give up any details about herself during the time. She didn't like to dwell on that darkness, the one she could feel welling despite her efforts to stop it.

When the group finished their meal, the topic naturally shifted back to food. Dinner was discussed at length, of course, and the events of the previous day came back with renewed vigor. Veronica found herself practically shaking as she leaned over the sink with a few dishes. When her dad had commented that he hoped the ham was worth the extra trouble, Veronica couldn't remain outwardly calm any longer she hastily excused herself, letting the dishes clatter in the sink as she rushed from the kitchen.

"Now what do you think that was about?" she heard her father ask, pausing for just a moment to hear Logan's response. There was nothing, then her father's voice again. "Well, devil-dog, I reckon it's up to you to find out." Another beat, and nothing. With inflamed anxiety, she carried on down the hallway.

Not wanting isolation, only reprieve, Veronica retreated as far as the living room. She flopped on the chaise and sighed for a moment, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, the thin fabric of her robe doing nothing to eradicate the chill. Despite the fact that she knew it wasn't only December air causing her to shake, she attempted to keep her hands and mind busy by starting a fire. She knelt down in front of the fireplace and stacked the wood from the hearth. Her unsteady hands had a much harder time with the matches, however, and she groaned when she fumbled while removing one from the box. _Damnable_ _thing!_

"Ronnie, do you want me to do that?"

Veronica jumped at the intrusion and defiantly shook her head no. Match after match extinguished in her grasp, the frustration rolling off in waves. His hands reached out, covering hers, taking the box away as the grimace took root on her face. Resigned, she marched off toward the couch and sat stiffly on its edge as he coaxed flame from the petulant matches.

Joining her on the couch, a soft smile appeared as he took in her pout. Her head tilted shamelessly to the side, her lip trembling slightly as she fought the tempest that threatened; she couldn't help but get lost in his eyes and forget everything that troubled her. And when he pressed his lips to hers all rational thought flew out the window. The only thing that mattered was that moment and what was building between them.

He pulled away abruptly, leaving them both breathless.

Biting her lip, she pulled a small box from beside her and presented it to him.

"What's this?"

"It's a Christmas present…you know, today, on Christmas, we give the people we care about gifts to thank them for being in our lives, or in our case, putting up with an exorbitant level of craziness," she replied, thrusting the packing toward him again.

He finally took it from her hands, still eyeing it circumspectly. "I'm aware of all of the things you so succinctly pointed out, I was merely taken aback considering I thought we were exchanging gifts later."

"We are," she reassured him. "This is just something I wanted to give to you privately."

"Veronica, you really didn't have to do this. Letting me back into your life, allowing me to be a part of every day, it's more than I could have ever hoped for. It's all I'll ever need." He pushed the hair from her face and she nuzzled against his hand, losing herself in the feeling of him before pulling away and focusing purposefully on the wrapped present. He tore the paper away from the box slowly. Nervously, Veronica bit her lip as he lifted the lid to reveal the pocket watch she'd painstakingly designed. Shoreline crept across the bottom, waves appeared to break on the sand. Stars had been delicately etched and set with gemstones, twinkling in the fire's light. She saw the recognition of hers and his birthstones, but there were other stones that she knew he probably couldn't place. His long fingers deftly released the front to reveal the face of the watch. It was beautifully done, its silver filigree numerals ticking steadily. At the inscription he paused. Veronica felt the breath leave his body, and when he looked at her, his eyes glistened.

"Are those?" His words sounded choked, and she knew that he was barely holding himself together.

She nodded. "One for the month they were conceived, one for the month they would have been born, and one for when they were lost to us."

She held him as the tears fell Unable to keep from crying herself, she allowed herself the break alongside him.

"I'm so sorry, Ronnie."

She sniffled and wiped the tears from under her eyes before moving to do the same to his. "How can you even look at me? How do you not see him?"

"Logan, I've never seen him in you. I never could've loved you if I had felt differently. Even when you act like a fool." She felt the smile on the back of her hand as he held it near his lips.

"And what do we do now that Aaron's come back?"

She inhaled sharply. "We bring him down," was her matter-of-fact response. "Together."

"What if he hurts you again?"

"He can't! Lo, he cannot possibly hurt me any more than he already has. He drove you out of my life once, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. He tried to break you, and he failed. He tried to kill me, and yet, here I stand. He can never come between us, and we will never let him get away with what he did."

"All right. You and me. We'll make him pay," he kissed her forehead and pulled her tight. She had never been more certain of anything in her life. For the first time, she wished away the holidays so that she could get back to work. It was undoubtedly going to be a long week.

Later, as the sun began its descent into the Pacific, their friends arrived, amazingly forgoing spending the holiday with their families in favor of sharing Christmas dinner with Logan and Veronica. She had spent hours preparing the picturesque feast that sat before them, and now she sat at the table, surrounded by nearly everyone she loved. It looked more like a Rockwell print than a Christmas dinner in Neptune, California. Keith sat at the head of the table, Vinnie to his left, Alicia to his right. Next to her sat Wallace followed by Darrell, Ryan MacKenzie, Mac, and Dick. Logan sat opposite Keith, Veronica to his right, Lilly and Ruby next, followed by Meg and Duncan, who surprised everyone by coming back home for the holidays. The meal had been eaten in peace, though Veronica felt as though her every move was tracked by no fewer than three sets of eyes at a time. Her companions even seemed to be doing it in shifts, trying to seem inconspicuous, no doubt, but in her mind, it only drew more attention to the fact that everyone was on edge.

Aaron's return had thrown a wrench into the finely spun web they were attempting to rebuild. Every knock, every jingle of the phone and loud voice, startled them to the point of looking over their shoulders. Veronica especially. Contrary to Logan's belief that she hadn't seen Aaron after he'd shown up on their doorstep, her chance encounter with Aaron the day before had turned left its mark on her brow. His brazen admission to his role in the 'accident' was unsettling. Now the hours of swallowing down her tears and fears threatened to spill over. Pushing down the burdensome feelings, she sipped her wine and affixed her best smile for the remainder of the meal.

* * *

(Logan POV)

Logan smiled contentedly as he walked through the house, loving every moment of his first Christmas dinner home after being away so long. The group had made quick work of clearing the table, and now everyone had dispersed throughout the house. He could hear voices singing loudly, and in the case of Dick, off-tune, along with the carols emanating from the radio. He stopped a moment, leaning against the far wall to watch Veronica laugh genuinely as Darrell and Ryan raced their Slinkies down the patio steps.

She turned a moment later and caught his stare, shaking her head. Logan held his hands up in mock surrender, turning away. _That's better._ She'd looked so broken this morning on the sand, a failingly attempted patchwork held together by gossamer threads of hope. He had watched her in the morning when she thought she was alone, cold and pale against the moon. It hadn't been hard to miss the tear tracks as they'd washed away the vestiges of the previous days' makeup. He'd seen the shadow on her heart and it never stung quite as strongly as it had that moment, when she tried to maintain her cheerful facade for the show. Turning the corner into the living room, he saw Ruby eyeing the ornaments on the tree.

"Whatcha looking at, pea?"

"Unca Loag!" Her face lit up at him, beaming. "Up!" she demanded.

Laughing, he hoisted the toddler into the air, reveling in the sound of her delighted squealing.

"Whas dat?" she asked, pointing to the cherubic faces that adorned the tree.

Logan set her down and crouched down next to her as he explained the ornaments. The ones that were his, the ones that were Veronicas...the ones they had gotten together. She listened intently, hanging on his every word, her hands cupping his face as she looked adoringly at him with her pale blue eyes. What would his little girl have looked like? Would his son have been brown-eyed, or blue? Would they favor Veronica, or would they act like him?

Lilly's voice carried through the room, shaking Logan from his thoughts. He gently kissed Ruby on the crown of her head and then watched as she toddled to her Uncle Duncan. Quietly he excused himself, not wanting to acknowledge the pain he saw reflected back from an unassuming pair of brown eyes.

The water was cool on his face, though it did little in the way of actually assuaging him. That feeling, the revulsion, and shame at the immediate jealousy that came over him, sickened him. He could only imagine what Veronica saw when she looked at her best friend with that little girl. They were the picture of everything motherhood could be. A laugh bubbled up as he thought about Lilly's transition from fun-loving girl to mother and how the latter seemed to suit her much more than he would have ever imagined. Duncan and Meg would be married soon, and no doubt would pop out a brood of their own in no time. And Mac and Dick wouldn't be too far behind. For the first time, he saw how much work lie before them, the road long and arduous. But the road took him to the only home he'd ever known. The only one he'd ever wanted. He knew what had to be done, and he was willing to be at her side wherever it leads.

The hallway was dark as he made his way back to their guests, the silence only marred by harsh whispers. It was Duncan and Meg in the kitchen, so he rushed past catching only fragments of their tense conversation, trying not to interrupt. Once back in the living room, he quietly sat down on the floor next to Veronica. He allowed himself a moment of reprise, his body to conforming to hers as he slid his arm around her shoulders and held her close, his lips lingering a second longer on her brow than he usually allowed.

"Do you think that maybe we could spend New Year's Eve alone?" she whispered.

"I'm sure that could be arranged," he murmured into her hair.

"Away from Neptune?"

"Is everything okay?"

"No, and yes."

He knew she wouldn't share more with the house full, so he let it go, banking that the honesty that she demanded from him would be reciprocated in time.

"San Diego?"

"Perfect. Merry Christmas, Logan."

"Merry Christmas, Veronica."


	11. Come Fly Away

**To those still reading, thank you! The best, you really really are. Your reviews and support mean the world :) *And apparently I managed to post this without thanking the most amazing beta, Bondopoulos, who I could not have gotten through this chapter without. I can't believe it took me this long to realize it too, ugh, so so sorry.**

29 December 1945

The neon lights flickered in time with the steps echoing down the pavement. Sharp heels clicked along the damp sidewalk; gasses thrummed through ghastly tubes, filling the darkness with echoes of promise the illuminated signs held. Keith Mars hated this part of town. Not because of what lay behind the doors of overly velvet-lined rooms, he was a man who had seen war and was privy to the baser side of man. No, it wasn't the sex that made bile rise in Keith's throat. It was the despair. The soulless looking to find themselves at the bottom of a bottle; the worthless desperately seeking affirmation in false affection; the lost, well, if he thought about it too much he'd realize they were all a bit lost. Shaking his head, he tried to refocus his thoughts on the task at hand, but he was out of his element and off his game.

"Oh and Roxie, yeah, peach that one was," Vinnie Van Lowe turned abruptly down an alley, his voice bouncing from brick to brick, the story of the contortionist reverberating with each stride. He lifted his hand to knock shave and a haircut onto the steel door, a plate slid open spilling dull red light into the alleyway.

"No." The voice boomed from the slot.

"C'mon, tell your boss Vinnie Van Lowe is here to speak with him."

"No."

"If you'll let me talk to him and explain about—"

"We're under orders here."

"Vin, forget it, let's just go." Keith ran a hand across his forehead, lifting the brim of his fedora, his exhaustion evident even in the din of the alley.

"No, Keith, this is bull—"

"Wait, Keith. Mars? No shit! We heard youse was back. Please, come in." The heavy door swung open to reveal two men, neither fitting the stereotypical mobster aesthetic aside from their penchant for suspenders, but Keith was certain that the one speaking was known for his knife-wielding skills.

"Our apologies, Mr. Mars. Had we known you accompanied Mr. Van Lowe, we'd have let you in immediately. But, as everyone knows, Vinnie Van Lowe is bad for business." The other man spoke, his voice deeper, a thick Brooklyn accent coated his words. They were led through a series of hallways before they stopped in front of an ornately woven tapestry, a white lion emblazoned on a field of red.

"Scarlett? Crimson?"Keith heard Vinnie mutter as they were patted down before the curtain drew back. Sitting at across the table was the man Keith Mars had wanted to see. He was dressed in head to toe white, his onyx and ruby rings danced in the candlelight.

"Mr. Leone, uh, thank you for seeing us."

"Keith Mars, sit at my table." The large man motioned for his butler, and the man quickly set two glasses on the table and filled them with pungent liqueur. "Drink. And please, call me Albano."

Keith and Vinnie shared a look before downing the shot of anisette and taking their seats at the crowded table.

" _Grazie_. Now, if we can talk about—"

"Your daughter Veronica was a welcome face at our table these past few years." Albano Leone faced Keith, his eyes, dark and deep-set, emanated an unexpected warmth. The catch, Keith suspected, was that it was left over from burning the enemies he'd left in his wake.

"Really? Huh, she didn't mention it," Keith stammered. The realization that his daughter had supped with members of one of the largest criminal syndicates weighed heavily in his stomach.

"Well, she and my Steffani worked at the factory together. She'd come home and tell my wife and I about this girl she worked with. 'Papa, her eyes,' she'd said." Placing an exaggerated hand over his heart, he continued, "Saddest eyes I'd ever seen. _Poverina_."

"Well, thank you for the hospitality. It was—it _is_ —very much appreciated." Keith nodded, his eyes fixated on the empty glass in front of him. A gesticulation wavered in his periphery and his glass was full again. He muttered ' _salud'_ before tossing back the potent liquor.

"How has she been without the factory work, and now that you have returned home?"

"She's coping. There's a lot to adjust to—going from living on your own to having two roommates, one of which, the boy who broke your heart, it's been…"

"Operatic?" Vinnie supplied.

Keith smirked slightly, silently affirming that Vinnie's choice of word was accurate.

"How you haven't taken ca—"

"Pa," the young man to Albano's right warned.

The elder man grumbled and cleared his throat, his hand pulling at his jet black goatee. "Apologies. I only meant to convey the difficulty that must lie with taking up with that _codardo._ It must take a very strong man—and woman—to look past such an...atrocity."

"As easy as it would be to blame Logan, it's just not his fault. Yes, he left foolishly, but he had no idea what of what the ramifications of that would be."

"You know, he's kinda dumb for a smart guy." Vinnie's mouth closed slowly upon taking in Keith's look, his adam's apple bobbing rapidly in his throat as the look forced him to remain silent.

"While that's not inaccurate, Logan was no more responsible for what happened to Veronica than she was. Trust me, I was with him for weeks on that ship and threatened his ass with the long fall many, many times. If for one second I thought he'd known about any of it, he'd be sharkbait." Keith paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "And yes, to say I don't hold some anger against him for up and leaving my daughter in such a state would be a lie. But at this point it's moot. We're here today for another reason. We're hoping for some information regarding Lynn Echolls."

"In time." With another wave of his arm, Albano signaled to several waiters. Each entered the room carrying a single dish covered with a silver lid. "Now, we eat. _Mangia_."

Keith and Vinnie eyed the dishes curiously before nodding their inclusion.

"I have to ask, though," Keith stilled, looking to Vinnie while pointing at the tapestry separating the massive table from the rest of the space, "Vermillion?"

"Oxblood," Mr. Leone responded, the warmth firmly extinguished from his smoldering eye.

"Heh, inspired."

Keith sat and observed the boisterous group around them, each shout and guffaw sent his nerves into a tailspin. This was going to be a very long night, and he just hoped the information was worth his spot at the Leone table.

After the three courses, desserts and more drinks than Keith should have consumed, Albano Leone turned the conversation back to business.

"So, what makes you think I have any information regarding Lynn Echolls?"

"A hunch." Keith kept his tone light, the alcohol making it easier than it should have been. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes locking with Albano's. A shiver he couldn't repress ran up his spine.

"I have nothing that can help you with that. Really. I know a guy, if that's an avenue you're interested in pursuing…"

"No, that's not really our style." Keith shook his head. Sure there was the occasional black eye and bloodied knuckle, but much more violence than that, he couldn't condone.

Albano's son's eyes raised and Keith followed their gaze as they locked on Vinnie. He couldn't help but smile at the man's obvious discomfort.

"What? I still had to get by, you know, and some cases required a little more plying."

 _At least he has the decency to look embarrassed_ , Keith thought. He shrugged and turned his attention back to the men across the table.

"Gentlemen, thank you for your time and your hospi—" Keith announced, standing to leave. Albano raised his hand, signaling for Keith to remain in his seat.

"I said I have nothing about Lynn Echolls, but I have some information about your daughter's situation that I think you might be interested in."

Keith sat ramrod straight; every trace of alcohol seemed to disappear from his being as he stared down the crime boss in front of him.

"Seems you could've lead with that," Vinnie said in obvious annoyance, anise strong and bitter on his breath. He was also silenced by a look from the younger Leone, and Keith couldn't help but wonder what exactly had transpired between the two men.

"Ah, but what fun we've had. Right, Mr. Van Lowe?" The now cold, mirthless eyes of Albano Leone were locked on Vinnie, a cruel smile crept to his before he broke, laughter spilling out of him like a flood. "I'm sorry, it's just too fun. God, look how he sweats. Keith, that's a good man you got on your side, but if he's not a damned fool, then I don't know who is."

Keith laughed humorously, his hands ringing the arms of his chair. He knew Vinnie was good man, not very good at keeping vices at bay, but not foolhardy enough to let it get him into trouble. Usually. He would get to the bottom of the Leone/Van Lowe connection, but later. Much, much later. There were far more pressing things at hand. "Agreed. Now, you said you knew something about what happened to Veronica," he prompted.

The glimmer of warmth returned to the big mans eyes and he nodded.

"It's not much more than an overheard, off-the-collar remark, but my daughter-in-law, Tia, was at that department store...uh, what's the name of it, Luca?"

"Sinclair's," he supplied.

"That's the one! So the Sinclair girl and a friend of hers were talking at the perfume counter or sommat, and Tia overheard her say something about Logan being home. She mentioned how pissed Aaron was that he chose—and these are his words, well, her words...not my words, anyway—something along the lines of 'that damaged slut being chosen over him.'" Albano held up his hands defensively.

Keith knew his face was red, he felt red all over. This was literal blood boiling; he was enflamed, rage and disgust coursing through his veins.

"Wait, how would Madison Sinclair know anything about what happened at the house?" Vinnie asked suddenly, breaking Keith from his rapidly declining train of thoughts.

"Now there's the investigator, we were so used to simply seeing the dick, Mr. Van Lowe. Good luck."

As they stood to leave, Keith turned back, nodding his appreciation.

"And Mr. Mars, when you get Mr. Echolls, please drop by. We'd love to have him for dinner." The cold, cruel, glass-like stare Keith had seen earlier was back, magnified by a malicious glint that Keith knew reflected his own. He nodded again and made his way out of the smoky room, back into the night. Hopefully he'd be able to catch Logan before he and Veronica left.

* * *

"Listen, just keep Mac close," Logan paused. He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up at Dick's response. "All right, all right, I won't say anymore, just keep your eyes open. And thanks, no, I know it just means a lot that I can do this for her...yeah...yeah, you know what? I don't have to take this. Goodbye, Dick." His laughter carried with him to Veronica's bedroom, her suitcase open on the bed as she packed for their getaway.

"Everything okay?" she questioned. He nodded and sat at the edge of her bed, the only disruption the sheets had incurred was that suitcase and his current presence. He smiled at the thought, and although nothing more intimate had occurred, the fact she had let him comfort her—hold her through the night—was a dream come true. He chuckled at the thought. How easy it had been to fall right back in love with her, into sharing secret smiles and lingering touches, to feeling like a teenager all over again.

"You really want this, to go away with me?" His voice was soft. Unsure what hers would hold, he cast his eyes to the floor.

"Logan," she dropped the dress in the bag and walked toward him, his face lifting toward hers as her small hand coming to rest just above his knee, her body sliding onto his lap with ease. "As much as it pains me to admit it, the prospect of leaving Neptune with just about anyone sounds heavenly. But with you, not only do I get away from Aaron, I get to spend five glorious days doing absolutely nothing but getting to learn everything about the new, possibly improved, Logan Echolls."

"Do you really think I'm that different?" There was uncertainty in his voice as he held her close, he couldn't help but breathe her in as she swung the hair off her shoulder. Her hand was warm on his face, thumb sweeping up his jaw, the soft smile at the corner of her mouth quirked to unabashed affection.

"Yes. And no. You have always been strong, how could you not have been? But you never believed that you were. I think even you can see it now, the man that always lie just beneath the surface. I saw you when Aaron showed up. For a minute he had you, and I watched it, the fire rise from within and consume you. You burned so brightly, Logan, I could feel it burn through me, and I knew." His hand covered hers for a moment before moving to cradle her cheek. He wasn't sure who moved first, just that before he could mentally register it, her mouth was on his, sure, passionate, laced with lustful promise he wasn't sure he could bear. He reluctantly pulled away from her mouth, his hand sliding through her hair, twirling the flaxen tendrils that slipped through his fingers.

"Veronica, I, um…" he shifted her in his lap, breathing deeply as he pulled further away. "I don't want you to think that I have any expectations for this weekend. I've told you, just being with you is what I want."

Smiling, she pulled his head nearer and placed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Perfect."

They left Neptune as the sun rose, the silver Rolls Royce chasing it's ascent along the PCH. The sky was decidedly red, which Veronica knew did not bode well according to both Logan and her father. The two of them had been especially strange before she'd left with Logan. She'd taken note of conversation that stopped abruptly when she'd walked in the room. Her father had been eyeing her as if she were made of glass, fragile and susceptible, and she didn't like it. And when she had called him on it, he'd turned her questioning into yet another lecture on mistakes past. She'd known better and took it for the warning it was. Something was different—it was in the air, swirling, suffocating... waiting. But she didn't want to think about that right now while in the car with Logan. She pushed it out of her mind, enjoying the ride, taking in the coast, breathing in every minute she and Logan were together. And just like that, they were in San Diego. Sooner than she'd expected, as she'd been so lost in the beauty of the moment—of carefree freedom that she hadn't experienced in so long.

Reaching The Lafayette Hotel, Logan pulled the Phantom in front, passing his keys to the valet and instructing the bellboy to see to their bags. Offering his arm, he and Veronica strode up the steps to the lobby, the large, white columns beckoning their entrance into the grand hotel.

Logan spoke to the man at the desk, confidently leaning against the counter in his olive button up shirt. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows and his khaki pants hung perfectly from his waist. She couldn't stop her lip from sneaking between her teeth as she took him in. Of course he glanced back at the exact moment. She saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes and her cheeks flushed in response. It was as though he could read her most impure thoughts. He licked his lips, his tongue sliding between his teeth and lingering just a moment before he shook his head and turned back to the concierge.

The intimacy of the moment only intensified her feelings. Embarrassed, and slightly breathless, Veronica turned her attention away from Logan and to the expanse of the lobby. Children read and played on the overstuffed furniture as their parents waited for their cars or checked out of their rooms. She smiled brightly. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, she just couldn't keep the light from emanating from her core.

"Veronica? Veronica Mars?"

And just like that the bubble burst. The light she hadn't been able to suppress a moment ago was extinguished with those nine syllables. She knew better than to believe that something could actually go as planned, and she was instantly reminded of her father's warning. _Why wouldn't it be actually worse than I thought?_ _Just breathe, Veronica_. She hesitantly turned toward the unexpected voice. "Deputy, what a surprise," she politely intoned, her arms purposefully crossed in front of her.

"What brings you to San Diego, Miss Mars?" The man smiled shamelessly, his dimples deepening at every syllable he uttered.

Veronica cocked her head to the side, gauging the man who stood before her. "Taking a much-needed break."

"Wow, that's new. It seems to me you spent the last two years being nothing but busy, and now you take breaks."

"Look, whatever you think could have happened between us, never, ever would have. Regardless of how busy or not my schedule was."

"Come on Veronica, how many people would be willing to overlook—"

The tension that rolled through her nearly sucked the breath from her lungs until she felt a warm arm envelope her waist, returning her heart's pace to normal.

"Is everything okay, Ronnie?" Logan asked, pulling her close to his side. She shivered at his touch, melting into him.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Logan Echolls, meet Deputy Leo D'Amato, one of Neptune's finest." She pushed the last part through clenched teeth. Buttressed against Logan, she felt renewed, energized... _alive._ Her eyes burned, the light re-kindled and it took everything in her not to demand that she and Logan keep running, as long as they're together...and alone.

"Logan Echolls? Wow. I guess it's good you're not dead."

 _Leo always had a way with words,_ Veronica thought. But it was Logan who spoke up.

"Yeah, we seem to think so," he said, kissing her temple as the hand at her waist pressed her even more tightly to him. The maître d' appeared behind Leo and beckoned Logan to follow him. Logan nodded his acknowledgement and then looked at Veronica. "It appears our table is ready. Are you hungry, beautiful?"

"Mmm, famished." She smiled as she looked up and pressed her lips against his, pulling away only at the exaggerated throat clearing from the interloper.

"Well, Deputy, it was nice to meet you." Logan extended his hand, which Leo hesitantly took."If you'll excuse us." Logan gracefully turned them away from the flummoxed law enforcement officer, leading her through the restaurant to their secluded table in the back.

Veronica was surprised when Logan didn't ask any questions about Leo. But it was slightly disconcerting that he didn't say much at all. She'd been relieved when he'd come to her rescue, but now, as he perused the menu in silence, he seemed distant. She was pondering how to bring up the topic herself when the waiter came to take their order. Logan ordered for himself, and smiled as she ordered, but then quickly excused himself, leaving Veronica alone at the table. She sipped at her water and contemplated what he might be up to. He was gone a long time, too long. Worried he'd get himself into trouble, Veronica made up her mind that she'd go after him. She gathered her purse and stood up only to see him striding toward her, his expression unreadable.

"Logan, is everything o—"

"Food's here," he interrupted, greeting the waiter and digging into this meal.

Veronica, following his lead, decided to take advantage of his desire to put off this awkward conversation.

When their meal was complete, Logan turned toward her and held out his hand. "Walk with me?" he asked, his eyes trained on her in that way that always made her week in the knees.

She managed a nod, taking his hand as he lead her through the restaurant and through the doors and past the walked the grounds twice, and while it was warmer than in was in Neptune, it wasn't by much. When they came back through the hotel, Logan went back to reception desk and took the object proffered by the young woman behind the counter. Smiling, he sauntered back to Veronica, taking her arm again and leading out the side of the hotel, to a waiting car.

"Mr. Casablancas." The valet held the keys out to Logan and then swiftly moved to open Veronica's door.

"What's this?" she asked, sliding into the passenger side of a Studebaker. The door closed behind her with a sharp click.

"Phase two," he sing-songed as he started the car and pulled away from The Lafayette.

Her eyebrow raised in question, and Logan reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly.

"Phase two? What is phase two?" He ran his thumb across her knuckles, tracing lazy patterns on the back of her hand as they turned onto the freeway.

"Our hasty retreat."

"About that. Where are we going? I thought—"

"We're not going back to Neptune, if that's what you're wondering. No, the plan is still to get away. Far away." She pulled her hand away from his, instantly missing the warmth and comfort of his touch. She held onto every last ounce of her pride as she resisted reaching out and reclaiming his hand. Instead she wrung her own together and studied the lines of his face as she waited for him to elaborate.

"And?" Veronica questioned impatiently.

Logan huffed out an unsteady breath and she noticed his grip on the steering wheel tighten."Full disclosure?" He looked in her direction, and she didn't waver, keeping her eyes on his. She wanted answers. With a sigh, he began. "I was talking to your dad after Christmas, and if you'll recall, he wasn't too keen on me taking his 'darling daughter' away unchaperoned."

"I vaguely remember overhearing promises of separate beds and virtuous behavior," she admitted quietly, nodding her head for him to continue.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he continued. "Your eavesdropping is endearing, truly, Mars, which is why it was so difficult to actually plan any of this. It started as a simple trip to San Diego. We vetted the hotel, the staff, every possible person we may come in contact with with the few days we had. But, I don't know, something still wasn't sitting right. I couldn't place it—I still can't—but something had be done."

"And that something is?"

"Well, it evolved from having multiple fake reservations at different hotels in the area. That was the first iteration. But after your dad got home last night...I don't know how to explain it, I just knew we couldn't stay in San Diego. So I called Dick and Wallace, and we went to for drinks, and basically set up an elaborate ruse that we could employed if someone were to try and thwart our plans."

"A ruse? You and Wallace and Dick crafted a fool-proof escape route in case we got interrupted?" Veronica asked incredulously.

"Ouch. Yes. We are perfectly capable of duplicity, but only for the greater good, it turns out. Anyway, the plan: If I felt like there was any risk—a modicum of discomfort—I would call Dick, and he and Mac would come take our place at the Lafayette, allowing us a chance to get to our next destination before anyone even knew we'd left the city."

"So, you're telling me that Dick and Mac are driving to San Diego now?"

"Yes."

"They just willingly went along with your plan? How'd they even know when to leave?" His eyes shot to her then back to the road. She simply stared ahead while she tried to take in the gravity of what her friends had done for her.

"It was partially Dick's idea, remember, and Mac was more than willing to get away with her fiancé. And I called them from the hotel before we ate. By our eight o'clock reservation we'll have long since arrived in San Francisco."

"San Francisco?"

"Yep. I'd hoped we'd be able to get through the day without having to escape out the side door, but whatever I have to do to keep you safe."

"What tipped you off?"

"The deputy."

Veronica froze. "Leo? No! I mean sure, he's a little off, but he's harmless…" Her voice wavered, as she realized that she didn't entirely believe what she was saying. When she'd first met Leo, he'd been kind; he'd occasionally drop by the office under the pretense of a case and try to take her out. There had been a time where she'd considered accepting him simply to prove to herself she could be with someone else, but the thought of someone else's lips on her had made her stomach turn. No, it wouldn't have been fair to either of them. But surely Leo wouldn't stoop so low just to get back at her for a few dismissed dates. Up until very recently, she'd worn her loneliness like a shroud, shielding herself behind it and yielding it like a sword. While he'd become more and more agitated by her refusals, she'd never been afraid.

"Okaay, maybe he is," Logan said cautiously, "but his boss is not."

"I will give you that; Don Lamb is a piece of work. He's effectively managed to cater only to the bourgeoisie and turn them against the working class. And this is only his first term."

"Imagine that power incubated over time. He's a bad guy, Ronica. He's a plant. He'd been a lowly bodyguard in LA for years; a peon, but he had one idea and a mouth big enough to carry him all the way to office. D'Amato may not be working for my father, but I assure you Lamb is. Deputy Leo's little crush on you is the perfect excuse to get him to spy on us. He probably thinks I've kidnapped you...after I brainwashed you of course. I'm surprised there's not an APB out yet."

Veronica laughed heartily despite her best efforts not to."I'm sure when we we get back to Neptune you'll be arrested. And probably end up in a cell with Dick." She saw the confusion cross his face and clarified, "Oh, they can't stand each other! And when Dick Casablancas takes the reservation meant for Echolls, all hell's going to break loose. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall." The laughter continued as Veronica carried on about Leo and Dick's various interactions over the last year, most involving alcohol and surliness. Suddenly thoughts of Leo standing under the streetlight as Dick told him she would never be with him swam to the front of her mind.

She really didn't want to think that Leo was doing this because she'd rebuffed him; she already disliked and distrusted people enough. _Though, what's one more mark in the 'run away with Logan forever' column?_ she thought, shaking her head. That wasn't her. She didn't run. Okay, maybe she was running right now, but it was only temporary. She deserved this—this time away with the man she loved. _Love_. The thought struck her hard. It wasn't the first time it had popped into her head, but it had been a while. Only this was the first time she didn't try to talk herself out of it or rationalize it away.

* * *

It was impossible for Veronica not to watch Logan; he had a confidence and temerity he couldn't help but exude, and the Marine Corps had apparently done nothing to stifle it. At the airport her eyes were compelled to follow him wherever he went. There was pull—maybe everyone felt the particular rift in gravity—that was Logan Echolls, but she hoped she was the only one who'd ever recognize it for what it was. Fearful that suddenly every set of eyes at Speer Airport was on Logan, she wrapped her arms around his waist and clung tightly to his side. She felt his lips on the top of her head and he pulled her closer to him, and at that point she wasn't certain if her feet were actually still touching the floor or not.

"Ax?" A voice questioned from across the terminal. Veronica heard it first, registering the name along with a familiar shade of khaki, which happened to also be exactly what half of the patrons at this particular airfield had donned. There were servicemen—Marines especially—everywhere.

 _How off your game are you, Veronica? Love makes you stupid._ She shook off the thought, the idea lingering only a moment longer before—

"Ax!" The voice was louder now. The steady, heavy footfalls stopped to their left, and the man who appeared looked every one of his twenty-some years, the ravages of war reflected in his eyes, deep, dark, yet somehow wholly familiar.

"Weevil?" Any of the surprise that lingered on Logan's face was quickly washed away as the young man enthusiastically shook his hand. Veronica watched the exchange; Weevil, as it were, was one of the most confident people she'd ever encountered. He had an air about him that commanded respect from everyone in the room...everyone except Logan. It's not to say there was no mutual respect between the two, more like they were equals, and the entire terminal seemed to recognize it. Clearly whatever had happened over there had raised not only Logan's rank, but also earned the respect of the men he served with.

"So, what brings you to San Diego?"

"Ah, just getting my girl out of town for a few days," his eyes, formerly anxious and frustrated, were now tinged with no small amount of relief and silently pleaded with her before he turned back to his friend. "Bunny Caufield, meet Eli Navarro."

"Pleasure, though I'm certain I heard you say Weevil, Lonnie," she smiled tightly, trying to keep her eyes from giving her away. _Bunny? Really?_ She fought the eyeroll with every fiber of her being. _As if terrible aliases are the only thing wrong with this master plan. Let's see how many people we can run into while we try to clandestinely escape!_

Eli let out a low whistle and smiled charmingly."Your boyfriend thinks he's cute; he's the _only_ one who dared call me that. He's as brave as he is stupid. I didn't even know you had a dame. Especially not one as pretty as you, miss. I can see why you kept her a secret, Ax."

"Yeah, well, I didn't talk about home much." She felt Logan's eyes on her before she looked up to meet them. Pushing down the agitation that'd been threatening to spill over for hours, she smiled and moved to rest her head against his shoulder. She could feel his deep intake of breath, and he seemed to be holding her just a little tighter as he exhaled.

"Is this home then? Or is this your out of town destination?"

"Just a stop along the way, actually. We don't live too far though."

"Wow, Ax, California boy. Who'da thunk?" The men chuckled, clearly something of a private joke passed between them. Veronica was again suddenly and painfully aware of the time they'd lost, the chasm they'd yet to bridge.

"So you're stationed here then?"

"That I am. And as soon as I get my papers, _adiós_!"

"Where you headed?"

"Well uh, Felix, you remember him, right?" A look passed between the two men that was fraught with a tension she couldn't place, and Veronica noticed Logan's expression darken ever so slightly as he nodded. "He's moving in with his _abuela._ " Weevil dragged his hand across the back of his neck, the darkness had clouded his eyes too. "I couldn't let her shoulder that burden alone, especially since Felix's brother didn't make it back at all, so I figured why not? We grew up together...might as well help out where I can."

"And this newfound altruism is leading you where?" Logan asked again.

"Ah, apparently it's the most up-and-coming place in Southern California. Movie stars, moguls, the whole nine...this place has got it!"

"Sounds wonderful," Veronica blithely interjected. The confused look on Eli's face proved her sarcasm was too well hidden behind her overly enthusiastic façade.

"It won't be. Havens for the wealthy don't usually treat people of color with any dignities, or humanity. We'll see, I suppose; watch out Neptune, Eli Navarro is coming to town!" The smile Veronica had tried so hard to keep in place faltered, and Logan looked positively nauseous, but Weevil was carrying on about the life he planned to start and didn't notice that the air had been sucked from the room. She could tell that Logan was trying to figure out how to tell his friend not to do it—to get as far away from Neptune as possible—but Eli was too excited about starting his life after the war for Logan to dash his hopes.

"So are you the only guy from the squad here?"

"No way. Reyes, Jimbo and Gunney all got back a couple weeks ago. I was just after them with Tex and Rachet. Hey, if you're gonna be around, you should come back and see the guys!"

Logan looked genuinely happy with every confirmation of well-being and, despite her best intentions to the contrary, Veronica couldn't help the twinge of jealousy that flared.

She watched as Logan took on new life talking to Eli, resembling neither the boy she knew nor the man he had become. Perhaps it was truly an amalgamation of the two; the more she observed though, the more she was still unsure. His posture had relaxed to downright casual, something he rarely did even when it was just the two of them. His grip on her never wavered; he held her just as tightly to his side as he had at the hotel earlier but something in his eyes softened, a part she had never seen before, a light that had nothing to do with her.

Impossible as it seemed, she managed to keep her tongue to herself. She nodded her head at the appropriate times and smiled wistfully up at Logan, never letting more than a soft, humorless laugh pass her lips.

Twice now they'd been interrupted. All she wanted was to get to San Francisco, wrap herself in Logan and never let go. Not that she'd admitted that part to anyone else. And it wasn't like she was antsy to get him alone...okay, maybe a little. With the holidays they'd gotten a few minutes here and there, but it seemed there were always people at the house. Every interlude held the promise that had led to this day. _No one will find us here, Veronica. We'll simply forget the fact I just got out of the service. Let's fly out of the airport that's practically on the Marine base. How could that possibly be a problem?_

The fight she'd began to imagine grew to fever pitch. She had a response to every answer she could perceive, and he didn't stand a chance. As soon as the words got out of her head, that is. Not here though. She and Logan stood out spectacularly in the sea of khaki and green, the garb of civilians was a great big exclamation point she did not want punctuating their travels.

Although, when she looked around she realized no one had been paying attention to them, no one stared and pretended they weren't...they were simply uninterested. That's not to say they weren't being observed, of course they were, but there was no malice; it was simply appraising. Logan exuded service—his stance, his posture—he demanded respect, and it was given even at a distance. Again Veronica was reminded of their separation, this time the clarity that accompanied was blinding.

Any anger Veronica was harboring dissipated. The fight she'd carefully calculated all but wiped from her mind. Logan had brought them here, fully aware he might be recognized, knowing they'd be safest amongst people he trusted; the people who he'd made his family, the people who would return his faith in kind. She felt her heart swell. The ache ran from her fingers to her toes, the blood pounding in her ears as she forced back unexpected tears. Logan must have sensed the shift in her demeanor, as he regarded her with concerned expression. She mustered up a smile and kissed his cheek, nodding that she was okay and they could carry on.

Weevil smirked and crossed his arms across his chest, jutting his chin in Logan's direction. "How did that shoulder end up healing?"

"The shoulder's fine, my knee is fine, the bullet holes have all healed—"

"The bayonet?"

"Wicked scar, but fine."

"Dog bite?" Logan was chewing the inside of his cheek. Veronica could see him fighting to keep himself from saying or doing something he might regret.

She intervened. "Are you boys done reliving your glory days or am I going to miss my flight while you compare your manhoods?"

Weevil's eyes widened in surprise and locked with hers. She smiled cheerily as she heard Logan's deep breathing in an effort to keep from laughing. _Sorry, Logan, but Bunny has left the building and Veronica wants to get this show on the damned road._

A slow smile spread across Logan's face, the one she would always associate with pride and getting her alone. "Sorry, Weevs, but my lady has spoken."

The men said their goodbyes, making plans to get together before Weevil left base and the squad scattered to the winds. Veronica smiled dutifully and managed to recall her Bunny persona, hopefully leaving Weevil with the impression of naivety and saccharine sweetness.

Boarding the plane, Bunny was purged from Veronica's mind, and during the flight, any turbulence in the air was diminutive compared to the litany of questions that tumbled through her head. No, they could not get to San Francisco soon enough.

* * *

"So, The Fairmont," Veronica said, tongue snapping the 'T'. Logan took in her expression. She appeared equal parts annoyed and impressed. From the second they'd pulled up to it's palatial expanse, through the crystal-chandeliered ballrooms and poshly decorated lobby, she'd gaped. When they took the elevator to the penthouse, she'd glared. And when the door swung open to the suite, she may have literally swooned. Richly furnished, decadently draped, and even though she lived in luxury at the Echolls mansion, he knew that it paled in comparison to the grandeur of this room.

"What? This dusty old place?" he smirked, throwing his sport coat over the back of ornately upholstered Queen Anne chair. He ran his fingers down the length of fabric, focusing intently as he took in the craftsmanship.

"So, Ax," Veronica dragged out the 'X' as if she were slicing through any existing pretense. "Any plans to re-enlist?"

Logan stilled at her words, his hand jerked away from the chair as he stood and turned to face her. "You actually think I want to go back into the Marines?" He stepped closer to her as she pulled her arms around her body. He knew the stance well. It was her default position...retreat into self and build walls. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, dislodging his coif and leaving him utterly undone.

"Maybe?" her voice was soft, words spoken just above a whisper as if unsure—perhaps a bit agitated. "I don't know Logan, it's clearly something you loved being a part of and were good at. I just don't want you to feel like you gave it up." Veronica's voice grew louder, stronger, with each word as if she believed them more when they escaped her head and reached his ears.

He couldn't believe that she thought he'd go back. He took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke. "That chapter of my life is done. Door closed, locked, bolted, chained, forever; I don't want to go back. I've proved everything to everyone I wanted to even—"

"But if in five—or even ten—years you start to question everything you gave up…"

Logan closed the gap between them and placed his hands on her upper arms, slowly running up and down their length. "Veronica, I didn't give up the Corps. I did my time; it's done. The only thing in my life I've given up was you, and I'll regret that every single day of my life. If I could do that all over again...God, things would be so different. I want—no, I need you to understand something." He lifted her chin so her eyes met his, he could feel the shiver run down her body as he tried to convey with everything he had that his words were not just that. "I left for you. So that I could come back to you a better man, and I think I have. And as foolish or crazy as it may seem, every decision I have made since I was twelve years old has been about you—about us. Our future—"

Veronica's eyes widened, the red flush of anger crept up her neck and colored her face as she pulled her body away from his touch. "Our future? You went off to war, Logan. Did you even plan on coming home? How many of those purple hearts could have easily warranted a folded flag and condolence letter? And to whose door would they have been delivered?"

Logan's hands hung limply at his sides, he dared not touch her again just yet. He could feel the tears threatening to fall, his throat was scratchy and constricted, he wasn't sure if air—let alone words—would make their way out.

The "yours" he emitted was hoarse, barely registering to his own ears, but the coldness in Veronica's eyes proved she'd heard him. Glassy and red from anger, she focused her glare directly at him, the hurt only faintly masked by the rage.

"Mine. My doorstep. Which happens to be your house now, where I'd have had to mourn losing you again." Her words stung like venom; each acid-laced syllable biting at his flesh punctuated by the tiny hand that jabbed his chest in time. Logan watched her jaw clench and nostrils flare as her arms crossed tightly in front of her.

"Jesus, Veronica! How many times can I apologize for how fucked up my leaving was? I get it. Put a neon sign that flashes 'jackass' over my head; I will gladly tout it for the rest of my life if it takes that look off your face. But I can't take it back, and I wouldn't, honestly. As damnable as the consequences have been, as long as you end up by my side, I don't care how we got here. I love you." He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and pulling her tight. "Only you. Always you. It's how I made it out of that hell; the thought of coming back to you was my guiding light."

He noticed her bottom lip sneak between her teeth as the rigidity seemed to ebb from her body. Her eyes locked with his, warmer, softer than they were just a moment ago, but her wall was still very much intact. "What if I had moved on, Logan? What if, instead of allowing my heart to shatter, I'd resolved to forget about you?"

"But you—"

"I'm aware of what I did and didn't do. Just answer me. What would have happened?"

Logan scanned her face—her everything—searching for a clue as to what he should say.

"I don't know, Ronnie! I would have probably left Neptune forever and lived out my days as Lonnie Ackles. Maybe I would have re-enlisted then, but it's nothing we need to worry about now!"

"Until you get together with your Marine buddies and want to go back to that life."

"You're not serious, Veronica, you can't be. How many times can I—" Logan grabbed his hair again and spun around in a circle, trying to collect himself. "What can I do to prove to you that you're where I want to be?"

"You just looked so happy talking with Eli; you practically strutted down the terminal after that. How can I compete with that kind of evocation, Logan? I've never, _ever_ , seen you look like that before tonight." The edge to her voice was razor sharp, cutting Logan to his core.

"So, what? Every time you're made even the tiniest bit aware that I was gone and a good Marine, you're going to get mad at me?" _Will we ever get past this?_ he wondered, fingers pressed to his temples, trying to stave off the percussion building in his head. _Keep it together. You just need a drink, Logan._ He dropped his hands to his side and stepped around her, beelining to the bar. He scanned it's generous contents—another reason the suites were the best—until his eyes locked on his prize. As one hand reached for the bottle, the other unwittingly ended up in his pocket running his thumb over the face, up to the top, pressing the button and clicking it open. And then closing it before repeating the process until the banging in his head synched with faux-metronomes tempo he set. The ticking soothed him, or maybe it was what it represented. Holding the scotch in his hand, he stared at the bottle for a moment before setting it back down, releasing a breath that bordered on a groan.

"No, Logan, I just—"

He moved to turn back to her, but she was at his side, removing the stopper from the decanter and pouring them each a glass, her hand resting on the arm that held the watch.

"It's bullshit, Ronnie," he said raggedly. "And damn near fucking impossible. Everywhere we go, every turn will be another reminder and there aren't enough 'I'm sorrys' or 'if I coulds' in the world. I know that—I get it. But you still being angry means that everything between us was real."

Her head snapped up. "Did you doubt that?" The edge was completely gone from her voice, but the hurt that emanated broke his heart. He turned sharply to face her, face cast down, looking hopelessly small.

It was then that it hit Logan, the sound and the fury coming full circle, colliding with the sides of his brain. The cacophony of alarms sounding, the ringing bells that accompanied the realization behind her anger. Veronica Mars was afraid. Terrified, even. And as much as it killed him that he brought these fears out in her, there was a modicum of relief in knowing the next step in making things up to her. He tucked the information into the back of his mind, straightened himself up, throwing back the single malt and willed that this time, the right words came out.

"No, I never doubted that what we had was real. But we were kids, Veronica. I knew you were all I would ever want in this life, but you, my God, you could be with anyone on this planet! How could you still want to be with me...after all this time, after all this pain?"

 _Why is every happy occasion marred by these protracted trips down the memory lane from hell?_ He heard the glasses as they hit the bar top, her warm hands sliding into his now empty ones.

"Logan, you were gone—possibly dead—and all I could think was I would never be whole again. You didn't just leave me behind, you took a part of me with you," she sighed, and the tears that had been collecting in the corners of her eyes finally began to fall as she swirled the last of her drink in the crystal glass. "And I was okay at first. Honestly. I knew why you felt you had to leave. I got it then and I get it still. When I found out I was pregnant, I swear I thought everything was going to be okay. You had a piece of me with you and I...well, I had this little piece of you with me—growing, inside of me." Their hands had separated at some point, his hands now resting firmly on either side of her waist, her hands flat against his chest. He was sure she could feel his heartbeat against his ribcage. "My mom left, and that was rough, but I had so much to look forward to. Our baby, Logan…" His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her flush to him as the sobs began to rack her body.

Logan held her until the sobs subsided. The manic tears were soon replaced by slight hiccups, which faded to a soft snore. He swept her legs into his arms and carried her into one of the bedrooms. Laying her on the bed, he took off her shoes and tucked her in, kissing her on the forehead before retiring to his own room. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone, but they hadn't fully resolved whatever it was they'd been arguing about and he couldn't imagine she'd be too keen about waking up with him.

"Wait." At the sound of her voice, he turned back to face the bed. Veronica was still mostly asleep but managed to prop herself up on an elbow, her eyes glowing against the darkness of the room. "Don't go."

He nodded, toeing off his shoes as he made his way back to her side. She lifted the blanket enough for him to slide in next to her. "I promise, never again," he whispered, kissing her temple as she molded against him.

"Logan, what are doing tomorrow night?"

His eyebrow raised, he was almost certain she was asleep, but he answered her anyway.

"I'm taking you dancing, doll." Her happy sigh was the last thing Logan remembered before drifting off to sleep.


	12. Kiss Me at Midnight

**I realize this is moving wicked slowly, but I swear this is the last of the heavy emotional stuff. Things really start to move coming up. Thank you to every kind, encouraging word and for sticking with this story for so long. It is, as always, much appreciated.**

 **Also, to Bondopoulos, who gets this all to make sense, which is a very, very heavy feat. So thank you, for everything :)**

" _Mommy! Mommy!"_

 _The little boy appeared at her feet, materializing in the wave that currently retreated from the shore. Shielding her eyes from the too bright sun, she saw the small boy, sandy hair and bright blue eyes that twinkled with mischief._

 _Her mouth moved, said all the right things to the boy, who smiled and laughed and threw himself into her arms. But her words eluded her; they were not hers to say. She held the boy tighter and he allowed it._

" _Now, if this isn't my favorite sight in the whole world," her eyes shot up to find Logan, equally ocean-mussed and smiling in a way she hadn't seen in years. Her lips formed familiar words, his mouthed "I love you", and it was almost enough to send her heart soaring. She reached a hand to him, his fingers just beyond hers when he stopped._

 _His hand wrenched back, before he simply disappeared, body slipping into the waves. Aaron emerged in his place. Another snap of his fingers and the boy is gone from her arms._

" _One, Veronica," he pontificated, sweeping an affected hand across his chin. His cold eyes turned on her, reflexively, she closed her own._

 _And when they opened she was back in that damned bed. It was like waking that first time all over again. The faces mocking smiles, their triumphant happiness emblazoned above her as the reality set it. Gone. This time her arms had never felt so empty, so cold._

 _Now there was a voice. The mocking smiles above giving way to the cruel tongue of Aaron Echolls._

" _Two." The litany of voices chorused. "Are you ready to lose him again?" or "Who's next, Veronica?" Everyone was a target, no one and nothing was off limits. The cherubs morphing into Aaron's face, as they slowly fell from the ceiling, trapping her in the hospital bed she'd fought desperately to be free of._

Veronica woke with a start, sweat matting her hair to her forehead, breathing in broken gasps. She got out of bed, her dress too tight, as she fought back the physical onslaught that always accompanied these dreams. This particular fit took longer to come down from, her return to bed was not unnoticed by Logan, who too, took to changing into less restrictive clothing. As she slid back under the covers he turned to face her, arms pulling her close to his chest while Veronica insisted she was merely changing and getting a drink of water. He grumbled his acknowledgment and pressed his lips to her forehead. It's the last thing she remembered before surrendering herself to sleep again.

They ate a late first meal. Neither wanting to call it breakfast because of the untimely hour, but it was their first meal, both Logan and Veronica having slept in much later than they usually would. As it turned out, subterfuge was quite taxing. Much to Veronica's relief, Logan had kept any lingering concerns about what had happened the previous night to himself. He did comment on her lack of presence in the bed at one point to which she replied quite saucily, causing him to nearly choke. The laughter it brought was real, whole-hearted and full-bellied, and was enough to shift the conversation back toward levity rather than continue as he would have liked. She'd practically been able to feel his eyes trying to read her throughout the meal, but he never pushed.

Apparently, their late start threw off Logan's day entirely. They had barely finished their meal before he'd kissed her on the cheek and twirled out the door. In his wake, he'd left behind a bewildered Veronica and a large garment box. On top sat a note scribed intently on the hotel's letterhead. An airy sigh slipped past her lips picking it up and depositing it on the bed, curling up with the intention of a cat nap. Logan's scent lingered on the pillow, however, lulling her into a false sense of security, and she fell swiftly asleep only to be woken by the sound of _his_ voice echoing in her head.

Angrily shaking off the sensation, Veronica rolled out of bed. Her feet propelled her through the suite to adjust the thermostat. The hotel-provided luxury robe had succeeded in staving off the chill, but the longer she was alone in the room, the colder it seemed to feel. She'd noticed that when she was still, the chill ran up her spine and settled around her heart. It seemed when Logan came home her nightmares subsided, while his intensified—until last night that is.

Maybe it was the marble floor in the foyer or the crown molding that surrounded the wainscoted ceiling, the floral accents carved into every juncture or cherubic faces smiling, descending down in the bright lights. Any of them would probably have been enough to send her into a tailspin, the combination, plus the emotional upheaval of the previous day, were the perfect storm for her subconscious.

She wheeled back toward the bathroom. Slow, deliberate steps cadenced with her breathing. Of course today she would have the mother of all nightmares. The lingering discomfort settling into every facet of her mind made it nearly impossible for her to focus on any one thing for any length of time. Stepping back into the parlor, she switched on the radio in hopes of distracting her growing anxiety with music. She desperately wished Logan was there, if only just to know she wasn't alone—just to reassure herself this was real and not some dream-induced miasma that she would wake up from to find herself all alone again.

She found herself holding his note, practically committing the words to memory. Reassurance that he would still be there.

 _Leaving you today was the absolute last thing I wanted to do. Don't for one second think that I don't know something happened last night. And while I wish you'd come to me, I know I still have to earn that back._

 _But tonight, well, I just want to hold you in my arms and show you off to the world. I cannot wait to see you, beautiful. The day is yours—primp, preen, do whatever you need to do to have a fantastic night with me._

 _I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of calling in a favor. Yes, I am aware you're probably rolling your eyes right now...still not a fan of my material gestures? Sorry, toots, you're just going to have to get used to it—it's going to be happening for the rest of your life. Besides, I think you'll have to agree on this one, it was totally worth it._

 _I'll see you in the lobby at eight._

 _L_

Veronica had some disappointment knowing he wasn't coming back to the suite, but she tamped it down and spent the time doing exactly what he'd asked her to. _If he can do all this for me, the least I can do is look the part_. The knock at the door and subsequent delivery of pastries solidified the notion, her heart doing the stutter step she had no counter for.

Seven. Finally. It may as well have taken a lifetime to get to this moment. It did, in fact, take half of hers, though she had been expected to be married at this point, perhaps studying law, or medicine, or something equally untoward for a woman. Her eyes caught her reflection as she started to sigh, but a familiar tune caught her attention and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.

Billie Holiday. Her voice carried through the room, bell-clear despite the grainy recording playing on the shiny, new Philco radio. Veronica, in her bedroom of the suite, smiled as she recognized the tune. Allowing herself a moment's fun, she sang along as she made her way to the bathroom, her hair set and ready to be sculpted for the night ahead. She momentarily lost herself in the song, falsetto carrying high and loud, as she moved over to the bed.

The large garment box lay center, where she'd moved it earlier that evening, it's achingly red bow was just screaming to be pulled. Gingerly at first, then with reckless abandon, she released the ribbon from its trapping, casting it to the side as she removed the lid of the box. Inside, nestled between the sheets of iridescent tissue paper, was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen.

Lifting it from the box, she held the garment between reverent hands, her fingers luxuriating the feel of the rich fabrics, satin and velvet combined in elegance. The fan-top bodice alternated between the two, and while it seemed mostly satin, the velvet swath ran to the top of the slit in the skirt. The lines between the fabrics were accentuated by glistening stones—purples and blues that shown in the light. She stood and held the gown against her body, relishing in the feel of it against her skin. Upon further examination, she noticed the back dipped lower than her undergarments would allow and a sinful smile took root.

"No, I can't help lovin' that man of mine."

* * *

He knew it was after eight, albeit not much. The band hadn't started yet, but he was anxious. He really hadn't wanted to leave her alone, at all, ever, but trying to throw together the makings of a romantic weekend away—especially one equipped with alternate destinations at the very last minute—had left him with a series of loose ends he'd needed to tie up.

He rubbed his hands together in an effort to divert from checking his watch again. Not that he needed to, the pendulous clock hanging in the foyer showed that it was now nearly quarter after. He started pacing the hallway, his hand smoothing the sides of his hair with deliberate machination, the act of annoyance switching to concern the more seconds that ticked by.

Finally, with his fingers spread across his brow, he stopped. With a couple of swiping motions and one final check of his hair, he turned back toward the elevators, fingering the cuff of his jacket between his restless fingers. And then the air was promptly sucked from his body.

The doors had opened, swathing the hall in glowing amber light. Her laughter floated around him, accelerating his heart as he tried to remember how to walk. Before his first step she was moving toward him, graceful, elegant, more the vision than he could have imagined.

The dress was dramatic, to say the least. It was cut very deliberately to emphasize her small waist, while the trail of rhinestones brought his eyes to the very high slit that showed her left thigh with each step. He let out a shuddering breath that managed to pink her cheeks; he knew his eyes were devouring her, and she had to be able to feel it too.

His feet finally decided to work again, and before he knew it, he was directly in front of her, her sweet scent invading all his senses, rendering him all but speechless.

"It's nice to see you too, Logan." The words slid from the corner of her mouth as she smirked at him. "Cat got your tongue?"

"It's just—wow, you look amazing, Veronica." He reached for her hand, lifting it to his mouth and lightly pressing his lips to the back of it.

She stepped back a half-step, the hand not tightly held by his sweeping down her form; his eyes couldn't help but follow. "This old rag?" It seemed as if no matter how hard he tried, Logan still couldn't find his tongue. He actually ran a hand across his mouth to ensure it wasn't hanging ajar. "Seriously, Logan." She pulled her hand from his, haughtily rolling her eyes and moving toward the sound of the party.

He watched her walk away, a puff of nervous air pushing past his lips as he tried to ready himself. Angling his body away, he nervously pulled at his tie, the formality of the bow sitting at his neck like a noose.

"Here." Her voice was soft, like her hands, as they deftly loosed the knot. She smoothed the collar of his pristine white shirt and ran her hands down the lapels of the equally white tuxedo jacket he wore over top. The one piece of color on his person stood in stark contrast to the monochromatic scheme he'd dressed them in; the pink rose boutonniere her fingers couldn't help but touch. A smile lifted the corners of her lips as he drank her in.

"I'm sorry I'm an idiot, but Veronica...you in that dress. I really don't have the words. You are—"

"A vision? A dream? Everything you've been waiting your whole life for?" The glint of teasing in her voice only made him smile more.

"All of the above. Please, do this jackass the honor of walking in on his arm?" He offered his elbow with a flourish. When she linked her arm through his, he felt lighter than air—it was as if he was walking into the ballroom on a cloud.

The room seemed to drip crystal; glittering chandeliers hung across the expansive room. The walls practically glowed golden—bathed in the gilded light. Every surface was covered in rich, cream colored satins; vases held an array of white flowers, the likes of which even Logan Echolls had never seen. The vases were deep blue, sapphire-like, reflecting off the ornate crystal gasoliers suspended from the tin-tile ceilings.

He led her through the tables, weaving through the sea of people sat at crowded ten-tops to a less glamorously dressed, much smaller table.

"I see this dress wasn't the only favor you called in," she said over her shoulder as he pulled out the chair and gestured for her to sit.

He kissed the crown of her head, smiling. "Did you really think I abandoned you today for no reason? The loose ends were all tightly tied. Only good things from here on out, Mars." The server was at their table before more could be said, filling the Heisey flutes with champagne.

"To the good things." He watched with heavy eyes she lifted her glass and toasted him. He followed suite, pausing just a second as he watched the glass linger at her lips. The champagne was fizzy and sweet on his tongue as he drank it down; it lingered on his lips as he tried again to find the words that seemed to lose all meaning when he looked at her. Her glass clinked on the table top and breaking his reverie. He replaced his own glass on the table and reached across for her hand. Her hands were warm but not as soft as they once were. Years of meticulous machinations had taken their toll, leaving scars and calluses as compensation.

"You'll have to forgive my lack forming of complete sentences or rational thoughts. And I know it's trite and cliché to say that you take my breath away, but in all seriousness Veronica, I'm simply blown away."

He felt her fingers slip between his, squeezing his hand gently. "Dare I say, speechless?" Her brow raised in question.

When he didn't respond fast enough, she smiled broadly. "Yes, I think we can officially call this. I, Veronica Mars, have rendered Logan Echolls speechless. Mark this day for posterity, who knows if or when we'll ever see it again."

"It's funny you think that."

"Please, you're always waiting for a lull in conversation where you can interject something you deem either witty or pithy. Both, if you're feeling particularly zealous."

Their server chose to interrupt just then, listing off the meal that had been specially prepared, He started my mentioning with a light soup. Logan was certain he watched Veronica's eyes glaze over at the mention of manicotti for the main course, the smile on her face growing as he rounded off the desserts, pointing to a large table across the floor which, he assured them, was covered in only the best sweets they'd ever taste. The bottle of champagne was left as he went to start fetching their first course.

Veronica's fingers drummed her nearly empty glass. He couldn't help but watch as her eyes flitted all around. Despite her calm demeanor, he was worried she was committing to memory all possible escape routes. Self-loathing rose like bile in his throat; it was his fault that she needed to catalogue the information at all. He drained the champagne from the crystal flute and refilled it with a shaky hand. When he motioned toward Veronica's glass, she denied with a head shake.

He smiled sadly as the bottle hit the table. "Something wrong, Logan?" she asked, her voice soft, laced with concern.

He was tempted to lie but thought better of it. She wanted honesty— their ability to be open with one another was back, so instead, he took a deep breath and asked, "Is this too much? I mean, it seemed like you really wanted to come, but if you're uncomfortable we can—"

"Logan," her smile was all warmth and comfort; it radiated and blanketed him. Her eyes glowed with the affection he had missed for so long and seemed to quell whatever doubt had been building inside him. Her hand shot across the table, recapturing his, sending the sparks from her fingertips to his heart. His head fell to the table as he expelled breath after shaky breath. "Lo? What's goi—"

Shooting straight up, he ran the hand that wasn't entwined with hers through his slicked hair. "I can't let you down again, Veronica. I can't let you get hurt. I have failed you so, so, so, many times and I don't know what I would do with myself if something happened to you because of me."

"Logan, that's absurd!"

He pulled his hand from hers, shaking them emphatically as he continued. "Really? If I wanted to get out of here without being seen, which would be the best exit? What niche could I duck into if I wanted a minute away? Are you going to plan your escape every time you walk into a room...for the rest of your life? Or is that reserved for events that include me?"

"Excuse me? You know this isn't easy for me...large social gatherings were never really my forte even before...everything that happened." He noticed her stumble, but her eyes remained fixed on him. "So, yes, it's overwhelming. There're hundreds of people who keep looking at us, and I can't help but wonder if they know who you are, or if they know Aaron. And if he really does have eyes like you say he does, you can't expect me not to remain prepared."

"I will never let anything happen to you."

"You can't always stop it, Logan, sometimes life just happens."

"You think I don't know that? I've seen things, Ronnie, the kind of things that can never be unseen. And at the top of that list is this mental image of you in a hospital bed, followed by you on the cold sand at the bottom of the stairs. You thought the Casey dream was bad but all of my worst nightmares involve losing you," his voice trailed off, the tears brimming in both their eyes as her lower lip worked between her teeth.

"Mine too," she said barely above a whisper. "That's what happened last night. He took you from me, like he took our baby, and even though I woke up and you were right there, I lost you. Again. And I don't think I can do that."

Their eyes locked again, this time his couldn't help but reflect the love he felt swelling.

"Never again. It's you and me, dollface."

She smiled, the one that only turned half her lips before it broke and reached her eyes. "You and me. And our motley little family?"

Logan realized that his smile now matched hers. "Almost," he managed to keep his smile mostly in place as his voice dipped. "That reminds me. I might have a lead on my mom." Veronica's eyes seemed to burn brighter at his revelation, and his confidence grew in tandem "Tomorrow, we'll go check it out if that's okay…"

Her hand shot back across the table, clasping his fingers in hers and squeezed. "Of course, Lo. I really hope we find her."

"Me too, Ronica. Me too." He pulled their enjoined hands toward his mouth and kissed her knuckles before setting them back on the table. When their first course arrived, neither of them reached for it immediately. Logan barely even noticed its arrival, he was so focused on the beautiful woman before him. For once, he felt as if anyone them watching would only see that they only had eyes for one another.

* * *

The plates had been cleared away and the dance floor opened. The band was literally in full swing as the couple lindied and jitterbugged, shim-shamed and fox-trotted. After about an hour Veronica needed a break. She kissed his cheek as she sent him to fetch more champagne, wending her way through the tables to their secluded corner in the back.

"Why, miss," a voice interrupted. She stopped and turned toward the voice. He was young—maybe her age—but looked no more than sixteen. She smiled politely, turning back to leave when his hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm. "A dame such as yourself shouldn't be alone during 'Stardust.' Let me take you for a twirl." She swallowed thickly, the bile sticking in her throat as the smell of his cologne triggered all her defenses.

Pulling her arm away with some force, she crisply said, "Alone is one thing I'm not. And while your offer is…" Her lips pulled back into a sneer as Logan appeared over the insignificant boy's shoulder, looking more gorgeous than he ever had. The loosened tie slid to one side, the suspenders hung at his waist and he looked deliciously disheveled, his eyes full of jealousy and lust. She shook her head. "Not. Your offer is not at all tempting as a matter of fact. It'd be best if you scurried along."

She made a shooing motion with her hand, and the mop-haired boy moved on to the next blonde in a tight dress down the line.

"You keep looking at me like that, and we're not going to make it 'til midnight, Mars," he said coolly, the proffered champagne at her lips before she could respond, her eyes telling that may exactly be her plan. She knew he wouldn't allow it, not until she could talk freely with him...not until she could commit. Her eyes drifted downward, settling on his hand and how the fingers seemed to flex almost unnaturally against his slacks.

She entwined her fingers in his and walked them back to their table, sitting next to him rather than across. "Do you want to make it to midnight?"

His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. She watched his eyes, searching hers before he leaned forward and captured her lips. His hand cradled her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone, the reverberation she felt to her core. She pulled away, breathless, catching only the '...right back' portion of whatever he'd mumbled as he spun himself up and out of the seat and away from her.

Taken slightly aback, her head shook as she watched him leave the ballroom with a jaunty kick to his step. Her mind began to wander, curious as to what Logan could be doing, yet still being enraptured by all he had already done. Before she could try to name the hundred other things she was feeling, the undesirable mop-headed boy and his cloying cologne were back in her periphery.

His scent burned at her nostrils as if it were smoke that wafted off him. The ghostly tendrils crept through her nose, wound through her veins and wrapped around her heart. For the too-many-eth time that day she tried the slow, deliberate breathing techniques she learned after her accident, but right now they weren't helping. She needed a distraction. And something to get the scent off her skin. Her eyes scanned the room. Seeing Logan nowhere, she felt her heart pound rapidly in her chest when her eyes fixed on what across the table. His jacket haphazardly hung off the back of the chair he'd abandoned when the jives had started.

With a series of deliberate movements, she retrieved the item, fingering the heads of baby's breath and greens that surrounded the rose, trying to focus only on the item in her hands. She could feel her pulse steadying even while her hands still shook. The deep breaths seemed to only bring the cologne closer and before she could think any more on it, she brought the flower, tuxedo jacket and all, to her nose and breathed it in. The effect was immediate. The rose, along with the lingering smell of Logan, smoothed her nerves. The more she took it in, the better she felt.

"Gee, Ronnie, did you miss me already? I was only gone for a minute." Her eyes fell to the floor, 'this time…' running through her mind like a refrain; the last vestige of her anxiety flaring and fizzling out as she looked back up at him.

She smiled. "You caught me. And it was like, five minutes. Which is a whole three years longer than it takes for me to realize how lost I am without you." She punctuated her statement with a wink, hoping her false bravado wrung true enough that he'd not question her.

One look in his eyes and she knew her volley had landed, but he plastered on a smile—or perhaps grimace would be more accurate.

"Veronica—"

"No, Logan, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. You have been beyond amazing; tonight, it's more than anything I could have ever have dreamed up. You are everything I have ever wished for."

"Promise?" It was moments like this when he looked at her wide-eyed, sadness brimming and pooling at the corners of his eyes, that her heart soared and sank in the same breath. When his eyes scanned her for truth and it literally felt like he could set her afire with his gaze—how every fiber of her being viscerally reacted to his intensity. He made her raw; he made her feel...everything. And she had missed it so, so much.

Before he could mistake her pause of epiphany for hesitancy, she fisted the front of his shirt pulling him into a crushing kiss.

Their recent kisses had fallen all fallen into one of two categories. Some were tentative—timidly cognizant of all that had transpired, both parties simply testing the waters of starting over. Others were the culmination of heavy, soul-baring conversation, cyclonic; emotional maelstroms, catching everything in their paths and turning it on its side.

This one, however, seemed to finally meet the two extremes. Passionate, yet loving; tender without urgency—it was pure love.

Logan broke the kiss, gently reminding her of decorum, all with a lecherous grin and dark, betraying eyes.

"So, where did you run off to, Echolls?"

"Ah, well, after you commented on my inability to stop my eyes from adoring you and um," Veronica watched his hand reach up to smooth his hair, which had begun to slip from its gelled confines and noticed it settle on the back of his neck. She reached forward, allowing her hand to rest on his knee, which stilled under her ministrations. Air came from his mouth in a huff as he continued, "well, I know the conversation we started during dinner, you'd probably rather continue in private." His hand fell from his neck and settled on top of hers, his thumb sweeping up her wrist. Her eyes locked with his. The warm, glowing, flecks of burnished gold in their rich, chocolate depths touched something inside of her.

She leaned closer. "Yeah?" Her response breathy and surprising to her own ears.

His head shook as he entwined their hands, pulling her from her seat as he stood and leading her to the dance floor.

She loved dancing with him. Their bodies melded with the music, his arms carrying and catching her as he spun her song the floor. After the third—or maybe fourth—song, he tucked her under his arm and led her back toward the elevators...back to their room.

* * *

"This is what you did?" The large hotel door swung open to reveal the kind of over-the-top romantic gesture that he hoped would make even Veronica Mars weak in the knees.

Flowers had been brought up from the ballroom; vases sat on every surface in the suite, while a bottle of chilled champagne and chocolates waited on the bar. A fire crackled in the hearth, the rich scent of cherry filling the air around them, enveloping them in warmth. He heard music coming from somewhere but was too busy watching her take in the room to be aware of much else.

"Nothing but the best for my girl." Logan kissed her temple, spinning toward the couch and throwing his coat over the back before grabbing Veronica by the waist and walking her, in a dizzying trail, deeper into the room. "We've got a little time before midnight, whatever shall we do?"

Veronica raised her eyebrow as he bobbed his at her. "How about we eat some of these desserts, pour another glass of Dom and take our celebrating to the balcony?"

Kissing her forehead, he stepped away with a flourish, grabbing the bottle and chocolate while she grabbed a blanket from the bedroom. They lay on the lounge, more she draped herself over him, wrapping the blanket around her as Logan fed her chocolates and sips of champagne.

As the clock ticked away the seconds until midnight, Logan found himself compelled to address the issue they'd been skirting around.

"Ronnie, I just want you to know that no matter what I've said tonight, or how depravedly I've looked at you..." He could see her blush even in the moonlight, and it made him smile. "I told you I have zero expectations, and I mean that. Don't feel that something physical needs to happen tonight. You're here with me. That's more than I could ask for."

She shifted, propping herself up on her elbows making them eye-level. "Logan, I promise you that whatever happens inside that room I will be one hundred percent a willing participant of. I do just have one question, for clarification purposes."

"Better make it fast, these are the final seconds of 1945." He held up his watch, tapping the face as she rolled her eyes.

"Are you rationed sugar?" Logan felt his eyes grow wide, the ear-splitting grin hurting his face as he pulled Veronica up his body and locked his lips on hers. They kissed the previous year away, passion growing, longing, desire, love physically palpable between them. Veronica pulled away, breathing heavily, and looked up at Logan through lust drenched eyes. "So?" she breathed.

"I thought you'd never ask." And with an exorbitant amount of grace, Logan lifted her from the chaise and carried her back in the hotel room, kicking the doors shut behind them as her laughter rang in 1946.

* * *

 _Meanwhile in Neptune..._

"Then, I had to chase him down this alley, which was seedy by even my standards, but it gave him the literal upper hand. He dropped from the fire escape onto my back."

"And? That's what...twenty feet? What'd you get, a bruised ass to go along with your bruised ego?"

The older man scoffed. "Actually, he effectively broke my ass. The bone. Shattered is the word the doctors used, along with my beat and any dream of ever getting my shield."

"What's this got to do with why you're here?"

"That man you dragged in here—the one you found with my intel—is the reason my last date dumped me for being a gimp."

The boy laughed. "C'mon, Vin, you think that's why she dumped you?"

"Fuck off, Frankie, or I'll get your ass shipped back to Philly faster than you can—"

"You are so lucky your mother is my favorite cousin or I'd—"

"Just call Uncle Al and get me in that room!" Vinnie slammed his first on the table.

Frankie threw his hands up in mock surrender before crossing the room to phone. A couple of grunted promises and curses later, the handset was returned forcefully to its cradle. Before Vinnie could ask, a door swung open and another man beckoned him inside.

The dim hallway abruptly ended. There was a large wooden door with a barred window to his left; a sharp knock from his companion and the locks clicked, swinging open on heavy hinges.

"Another friend here to see you," Albano Leone crooned wiping his bloodied knuckles with an embroidered handkerchief. "But don't worry, Mr. Weidman, this one is just here to watch."


	13. Seek and Ye Shall

_I sincerely apologize for how long this has taken me to get out. As always, there aren't enough kind words and praises I can heap on Bondopoulos, who makes sure the mangled words that come out of my head translate on the page. Thank you, to everyone, who has stuck by and continues to read. Y'all really are the best!_

* * *

4 January 1946

Vinnie closed the blinds, darkening the room against the too bright California sun. The smoke that wafted from the end of his Gispert cigar swirled in the fading light, filling the room with its acrid scent. He picked the folders up off the waiting room table and carried them back to his office. With great difficulty, he balanced the folders and cigar in his uninjured hand and jimmied the door open with taped knuckles. The papers rustled about as he tossed the manilla onto his less-than-tidy desk. He plopped himself unceremoniously into his client's chair, taking a long, slow drag from the Cuban. He coughed as the desk chair swiveled to face him; blonde hair tossed back falling to settle on her shoulder.

"So?" she questioned. She leaned across the desk and dropped what was once a perfect manicured nail onto the folders, tapping it's now bitten edge against it.

"Everything's in there, boss," he said with a smoky exhale. Her nose crinkled in distaste as the folders slid across the desktop and fell into her lap. Red lip quirked, she rocked back in the chair skimming the first page of the ensconced report. Vinnie was certain that by the time she thumbed through the whole thing, she'd be smiling ear to ear.

"And everything's still…"

"We're on the up and up, Mars." His attempt at smoke rings ended in a plume of smoke that lingered just above his head. Veronica stood and waved herself through the noxious cloud, rolling her eyes at Vinnie as he tried, and failed, to blow smoke rings again.

Slipping the acquired folders between another stack of papers in her hand, she turned back just before she opened his office door." You might want to curb your disgusting habit; the old man is hell-bent on turning this into a business of repute. He gets his wish and —pfft—" she sliced through the haze, "you lose half our clientele."

He scoffed. "Half. That's cute."

She laughed as the door closed behind her. She'd barely made it to her own desk before she opened the folder and was lost in it before she found her chair. After the fifth—or maybe sixth—time, she had committed it to memory. And after the tenth time, with passages emblazoned into her psyche, she steeled herself to bring down Aaron Echolls. And dance on his ashes.

* * *

Logan watched San Diego disappear from beneath him, the structure of the city giving way to ambling roads and the brown of the desert as they ascended toward the clouds. He tried, in desperation, to keep his mind on the seat in front of him rather than wandering into the cirrus they were flying through. He couldn't stop thinking about what happened the last few days. New Year's morning, Veronica waking in his arms, the feeling of never wanting to let go. He'd nearly blown off the trip to Morgan Hill to stay in bed with her for the next few days, but she'd insisted. They were going to his grandparent's ranch, and hell or high water, they were getting answers.

He hadn't thought they would learn anything, the way his grandparent's housekeeper kept sneering at them. Or, Veronica. Of course, she'd already found the ranch and asked her own questions, but she'd let Logan take the lead where his mother was concerned. For that he was thankful. So she had excused herself and made her way down to the stables while Logan talked to Gertrude. Which yielded nothing more than a scolding about his grandmother's passing during his absence.

Logan had walked out of the house completely discouraged, and perhaps a more than a little heartbroken. He'd been so certain that any and all clues would be here; Lynn had nowhere else to go. And no one else she'd have trusted to see it happen than the staff that'd practically raised her. It wasn't until he saw Veronica leaning against the pasture fence with her blonde hair blowing lazily around her, radiant, ear to ear smile on her face, that he realized he would do anything to be the one who kept it there. Renewed, he watched as she talked to a young stable hand, who thankfully didn't misinterpret her obvious love of all things equine as general interest in him.

When Veronica saw him, she'd abruptly ended her conversation and made her way to him. He remembered the feel of her hands grabbing onto his as the smile broke over her face. She'd known something.

And that's how he ended up on a plane to Buffalo. Not where in New York he'd thought his mother would go, but it was something. A lead. Logan sighed heavily and ran a tired hand across his brow. He cracked his neck from side to side, trying to adjust his long frame without kicking the person in front of him.

"Everything okay, Logan?"

"Oh yeah. Just dandy, Mr. Mars," he replied bitterly.

Logan watched as the eye closest him popped open from under the brim of Keith's fedora. The older man sighed and sat fully upright. "Something on your mind?"

Logan scoffed. The non-stop stream of what-ifs and what's-next were almost too much to bear; verbalizing them to the man he most respected was not going to happen. So he smiled, the easy unaffected smile that came naturally from being the progeny of two of the most recognized actors in the United States, and waved it off. All the while the tumult in his mind churned, and the fear about what he may—or may not—find swelled like the waves on the shores of Peleliu.

* * *

6 January 1946

"Clarence Weidman. Served in the first World War…" Veronica's voice reverberated around the room, echoing off the cold, brick walls, as she descended the metal spiral staircase."...in the 369th—"

"Are you going to continue with my distinguished service or can we skip right to the fun stuff?"

Veronica stopped in front of him, head crooked to the side and stifled a smirk. "I thought maybe you'd like a reprieve from the _fun_ stuff," her eyes shifted from Clarence to Albano and his son, whose bloodied knuckles matched the wear on Clarence's face. "Maybe try the easy way."

"Why Miss Mars, perhaps Aaron was right about you." Her eyes snapped back to his. They were sharp. Veronica was sure he was cataloging every reaction, storing it away for Aaron. As far as he could against his restraints, he was leaning toward her. "Easy, that is."

In her periphery, Veronica noticed the younger Leone tense. "Stop. You'll make me blush." She replied without missing a beat, momentarily deflating the tension and putting her back in charge of the conversation. Although she was certain that all she'd need to do was tilt her head and everything would realign. "Now tell me why you're helping Aaron Echolls."

He seemed to look past her. Not at the other men in the room either, just a slightly vacant stare that unnerved her. She crossed her arms across her chest, shielding herself from the tumult of emotions that threatened under the service. The longer Clarence remained silent, however, the more steeled Veronica became. Her blonde waves slid behind her shoulders as she heaved a sigh.

"I suggest you answer her questions Mr. Weidman. If we have to ask Miss Veronica to leave the room, well, she likely won't be able to talk to you again for quite a few days—"

"And frankly, I don't have that kind of time." She took a step nearer the chair he'd been tied to. "Answers. Now."

Clarence let out a tired breath and laugh. "I'll tell you what I can."

He explained that Aaron and he had been introduced by Jake Kane. Mr. Kane, he'd said, had used his services previously. Twice. And had been so satisfied with the results, he became the first name on his 'fixer' list.

"So, I was a problem that needed fixed? My child…" she swallowed thickly, choked with rage. Her breathing was ragged as she tried to find words.

"You're not keeping up, Miss Mars. I thought I had heard you were bright."

The words still didn't come. Veronica fought against the instinct to lash out, to cause him more pain as she bent closer to his restrained form. Her palm itched, desperate for the stinging relief that slapping him would bring. Instead she clenched her fists, swallowed down her contempt and trudged on.

"Stop talking in circles."

"No circles, ma'am. Simple facts. I only met Mr. Echolls this past September. It just so happened that the younger Mr. Echolls also returned this fall. My initial employment had nothing to do with you."

"Initial?" She repeated.

He nodded. "Correct. My services were enlisted for a very different…" Clarence paused just a moment before lifting his eyes to correct with Veronicas. "...issue." His voice carried a weight Veronica didn't want to acknowledge.

"So, that's what you do?" She spat with no small amount of disgust. He laughed mirthless and tried to stretch against his restraints.

"Wrong again. I am simply employed to provide... distraction." Veronica's brow quirked up at this.

"Political scandal looming? Look over here instead, we'll beguile you with something flashy and shiny. Maintain positive PR for our subject and destroy whatever is necessary to do so."

"To hell with morality then?"

His eyes swept side to side dramatically, making the obvious point to her inherent lack of morals. She merely shrugged, her hands were _barely_ dirty in this. "When being good pays as well as covering up the misdeeds of the wealthy…"

"And we all know how they love to play." When Clarence winked it made Veronica's skin crawl.

"The only thing that's precious to them is their reputations. Not family. Not friends. Just good press. Which is where I come in. Let's just say, without too many details, that Aaron's problem was a far less grand scale than what I aided Mr. Kane with. Intricate as hell, too, what we did. But no one will ever be the wiser." A smarmy smile slipped into place as he leaned back against his bonds

Veronica's hands found her hips as her tongue darted across her lower lip. She had a million questions, though none seemed to be about her anymore. She believed he had nothing to do with her accident, surprising herself. But right now, she couldn't stand the sight of him.

"I'm not interested in your other employment, Mr. Weidman, and since you have no information pertinent to me...I'll take my leave." She took a step back, and another, before the 'tsk' coming from Clarence's mouth reached her ears. "Yes?" She asked, exasperated, slowing her retreat.

"I may not have been involved Miss Mars, but that doesn't mean I don't know anything," he said, eyes glowing bright in the dim light.

"Then I suggest you spill your guts, Weidman. Veronica may not be getting impatient, but we surely are." Albano intoned from across the room. Clarence held up his hands in surrender the best he could.

"Fine. All I can say with certainty is that perhaps you might want to ask the _law_ for answers."

* * *

8 January 1946

Veronica was exceptionally careful as she placed her purse on the booth next to her while she sat. She adjusted the demurely styled brown wig before smoothing the pleats in her skirt. After giving her order of coffee and sandwich to the waitress, Veronica sat back and took a deep breath.

When she had first started working with Vinnie, rather than just for him, he had been extremely hesitant, mostly afraid for his own safety. If anything ever happened to her… She'd heard it a million times, but she knew from that very first minute, that this is what she was made for.

As if on cue, Aaron Echolls walked in. She felt his eyes pass over her as he scanned the nearly deserted restaurant. Veronica's face, half hidden by her handy King James bible, assured he walked right past her into the adjacent din.

"I need you to take care of this," she clearly heard Aaron say. She didn't dare look up, so she had to presume it was his fist that made contact with the table's surface.

She did not, however, hear the reply. Nonplussed, she gingerly pushed her purse nearer the edge of the bench. Veronica sighed as she sunk bank into the booth, the sound of her shaky hand echoing off the vinyl. _Damn him!_ She hated that he could affect her like this, make her feel so afraid. Being angry, essentially her default emotion, was how she'd managed to survive the last few years. Not that she particularly cared for sadness, but she was pretty adept at feeling that, too. But fear? No. Fear was weakness, and Veronica Mars was not weak.

She swallowed down her nerves and nibbled at the sandwich.

"Look, Aaron...I wish there was more we could do but the Leone—"

"Fuck the Leones! Don't I pay you enough?" Veronica could feel her heart nearly beating out of her chest. She had heard that. With her own ears. But that was the last she'd heard for a while. Clearly whomever Aaron was meeting with didn't want their conversation overheard. She sat quietly, albeit not really patiently, so lost in her thoughts that most people probably thought she was deep in prayer, which suited her just fine. It kept any one person from paying her too much mind.

She wasn't really sure how much time had passed, only that her third cup of coffee was disgustingly cold and the pie she'd additionally ordered was just crumbs. About to leave, she started to gather her things when the voices ambled nearer.

"Well, I do hope we can work these things out, Don. You're a _fine_ sheriff; I'd hate to see anything get in the way of your leadership," Aaron schmoozed. Veronica only nearly resisted the urge to gag.

"I'll see to it that our vested interests are handled with the utmost of care, Mr. Echolls."

"Sheriff, as always, a pleasure doing business. Oh, speaking of pleasure," he said as they walked nearer Veronica's booth, "how is Madison? She's a fine little filly, don't you think?"

The sheriff stopped and ran his thumb and forefinger up and down the bridge of his nose. "Ahh, well, she's something isn't she? At least you did the work of breaking her for me."

Aaron laughed as they walked past Veronica. Before they got through the door, Don Lamb shook the hand of the man who had nearly destroyed her life.

* * *

11 January 1946

It's not Buffalo. Or at least, not anymore. After three days of poking around the limited theatre district of the western New York City, Keith had finally gotten a solid lead, and Logan could not have been happier. It turned out January wasn't the nicest time of year to visit Buffalo.

It wasn't as though where they were headed was a whole lot better. A little more than an hour later, and close to another foot of snow on the ground, and they were in Chautauqua Lake.

The first of the Chautauqua Institutions, the campus sprawled over two-thousand acres, boasting hotels, libraries, theatres; all of the arts were equally represented, and visitors were taught with the aid of the ensconced thespians and professors. And while its popularity had all but died out, it seemed the perfect place for artists to commune and practice their craft.

"You ready for this, kid?" Keith asked as Logan held the door to the Athenaeum Hotel. Logan shrugged and walked up to the desk, looking around for the concierge. "Logan, you know you can talk to me, right? I know it's been a crazy few days, and you're tired. I get it, but…"

"No, Keith, it's time," Logan said resolute. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his overcoat as he tried, in vain, to tamp down the last of his anxiety.

"Gentlemen, I'm sorry but we're currently not taking on new guests," the sharply dressed young man said with an air of indifference.

"Excuse me?" Logan shook his head, anxiety exuding from every pore as his hands moved from his pockets to smooth the sides of his hair. "I'm not really sure how we look like we're interested in lodging."

"We don't question our guests, we simply ask for the same courtesy," Andrew, according to the name tag, sniped while he laced his fingers together and sat them primly in front of him.

Logan sneered, lips twisting sourly as his hands came down hard on the counter, causing the man behind it to flinch. "Listen, Andy," he spat vehemently, "I don't really care what courtesies you think I want extended, or think I should reciprocate. What I want are answers and you're—"

"That's enough, Logan," Keith said sternly. Logan closed his eyes for a second, his fingertips slowly sliding back toward him across the counter, gripping the edge and pushing himself back. He spun away from the desk and stopped behind Keith. His hands shook even as he shoved them back in his pockets.

Keith nodded, slipping his hat from his head and setting it in front of him. "Look, kid, it's been a very long night—"

"Night?" Logan barked. "That's an under…" his voice trailed off when Keith turned back to him wearing his most unimpressed face. Logan rocked back on his heels, with curt nod and small salute, he twirled himself away before he could embarrass himself anymore.

He knew he wasn't aiding Keith back there. He just couldn't help himself. They were so close; how was he supposed to keep his mouth shut? His mother was here. Somewhere. And all he could do was mess up their best chance at answers because he couldn't keep his nerves in check.

The hotel was an eerie quiet, Logan realized, as he wandered through the meandering halls of the Athenaeum. His heavy boots echoed through the empty, tiled halls. He wondered if it was still snowing outside, having not passed a window in sometime. He sighed. A young couple, sneaking kisses in the hall, giggled past him and disappeared down a different corridor. With a ghost of a smile, Logan took off in the same direction.

He lost the couple within seconds, but the faint sound of a piano drew him in deeper. He stopped outside of what must have been the ballroom. The corner of his mouth turned up as he thought of the previous week, dancing in the new year with Veronica—how their problems seemed to melt away as they swayed. He leaned against the wall adjacent to the entrance as he thoughts began to consume him. Just before he was pulled entirely into his subconscious, a voice cut through the air and struck him in the heart. With a shaky sigh and a silent prayer, he propelled himself off the wall and into the room.

Her voice was exactly like he remembered. Soft yet strong; her mezzo was resonant through the room and carried through him. Slowly, he approached where she sat upon the baby grand. The diners—who all must've been staff—had gathered around to catch the show. Logan positioned himself out of her line-of-sight, obscured by a pillar. Leaning against it, a frown creased his brow. The tune was familiar; it reminded him of London a lifetime ago. He was five and it was the stage debut of Lynn Echolls. Well, sort of. She and Aaron had met in a production back in '24 and fallen madly in love, but, she was Lynn Lester back then. When Lynn had found herself pregnant, they'd quickly married before she'd been stashed away. Of course Aaron had continued to act on stages around the world.

 _Evergreen_ was meant to be their renaissance, and to everyone else it had seemed to be. But Logan remembered this time tinted a much darker hue. It was the first time he'd remembered his father hitting his mother. Too friendly with other co-stars, or some nonsense. He remembered her tears when she'd practice in their flat. This song—the one her character sang while waiting for her lover to return to her—made his stomach turn. The fact that she was smiling, laughing, not at all fighting the sick that threatened to spill over, made him angry on top of it.

Lynn had ended her rendition of _Dancing on the Ceiling_ to whoops and hollers from her fellow Chautauquans. Logan could hear the happiness ebb from her voice. He turned away from the pillar with an angry flourish and rounded on the unassuming crowd with an audible slow-clap.

Logan stopped a couple feet in front of his flabbergasted mother, clasped his hands dramatically in front of himself and started to rock from the balls to the heels of his feet. "Wow, haven't heard that in a long time. I thought, though clearly incorrectly, that the mere mention of that time was sacrilege. How addled must your memories be?"

Logan watched as Lynn slid off the piano. She was visibly shaking, but apparently she couldn't help but smile. The pianist had stood up as well but she shooed him away, her hands slipping up her face as she stepped closer to Logan. "It's really you?"

Logan tried to swallow. His tongue felt unnaturally heavy and thick, and his strong sure words from just a minute before disappeared as she slipped her arms around him and held him close. He froze, stiff and unyielding in her embrace. Lynn released him after few awkward seconds and ran her hands up and down his arms before she stepped back, tears streaming down her face.

"You look so grown." Lynn said, bewildered. She reached for him again, this time, he flinched.

He nodded curtly. "Time has that effect."

"I imagine it wasn't just time, Logan. Where were you?" His mother's voice dropped just above a whisper. He turned away from the intensity of her gaze, fixing his eyes on the piano as his anxiety seeped from his fingers as they pulled at his sleeves. "I missed you."

Logan's eyes shot back to his mother. They glowed near incandescent, disdain scorched amber. "Missed me? That's a gas. Don't worry; there aren't any cameras rolling. Not here."

"How could I not miss you? My love for you was never conditional! And especially not for the press; I'm not your father. And I know…" she let out a shuddering breath as she reached for him. He shrank away, afraid to feel her hand on him. Her touch was always accompanied by Aarons. It was supposed to bring comfort, but it never did. How could it? Lynn nodded as she pulled her hand back to her body, tear spilling down her cheek. "I know I was barely an adequate mother but I thought of you every day you were gone."

"Was I a thought when you decided to join the USO tour? Or when Aaron first decided to use me as an ashtray?" He leaned forward with hands clasped behind his back, tipping his head to the side. "Or maybe...just maybe I finally warranted a _real_ thought when he nearly killed Veronica, and our unborn child."

Lynn inhaled heavily, her breath catching in her throat. "You're my son, Logan, regardless of what you may think of me —"

"I tried not to. Think of you that is. On those beaches, in the middle of the Pacific, but often did you make your way into my mind. And I tried; I really, really did. I tried to forgive you—" he took a step toward her and unclasping his hands and flourishing his fingers before pressed together in front of his mouth. His head shook, emphatically. "—and in a way I suppose I did. I made a certain kind of peace with my past. The kind of blanket absolution one grants when they aren't sure how many more sunrises they get."

"And now you're rescinding your pardon." Lynn finished with a small smile though her breath still seemed to be hitching. "That's fine. I don't want generic forgiveness. I want to earn it."

"It's going to take time."

Lynn nodded and reached out again, this time Logan didn't flinch away. "How did you find me?"

His smile was soft and warm. "Veronica."

* * *

15 January 1946

The snow had started; slow, languid, lazy flakes floated to the ground, only revealing their weight as they piled on the tracks. Through the darkened train windows, they blotted out the world behind them, enthralling Lynn Echolls. They danced, through the haze, their beautiful descent choreographed through the dissonance, weaving through the night like spectres. They clung to the glass, crystalline for only a moment before melting and streaking down the windows like tears.

Her fingers stretched against the panes, tracing the tracks on the inside and watching as they pooled at the bottom. For a moment she'd felt almost sad watching the snowflakes melt into nothingness until she'd remembered that, while that particular form was fleeting, they would in some form or another last.

"This is quite a step up from the last room," Keith mused.

Lynn jumped at his voice, so deep in her own head that she'd momentarily forgotten. She smiled tightly and nodded. This wasn't your standard sleeper car. In fact, it wasn't even a posh cabin on the train. No, when they had switched trains in Chicago, Logan had seen to it that they would have a private car as they made their way back to California.

The train lurched forward again, clinking the ice cubes in Keith's glass against the sides. Lynn took a deep breath and a slow sip from her tea, returning her attention to the burgeoning squall. She heard a sigh to her left and the closing of the cabin door before sound was swallowed by the clacking of the rails.

Her mind drifted back to the snow, falling heavily, as they trudged their way west. Her eyes strayed back to the door Keith had walked out to the hall that lay beyond. Behind one of those doors was her son. The one she'd abandoned for the majority of his life. Whose spirit, and body had been broken more times than she'd ever like to recount.

As much as she loved him, she'd never fought. Not for him. Not for herself either. But she had tried and made a stand with Veronica. She'd taken her under her wing after the accident and insured that the young girl would never had to worry again. Probably more than Logan and Veronica had realized. Had Logan not returned in five years, the properties would have reverted to Veronica...who was free to do with them as she chose. Lynn was more than just a little happy that particular clause needn't be evoked. The fact that Logan had come to find her, with Keith Mars no less, meant that at the very least he and Veronica were speaking. Which was more than she could say for the two of them.

Lynn smiled slightly, her reflection startling her as the upturn of her lip looked as ragged as she felt. The year or so of clean living had been exhausting. Having been fearful of slipping back into a besotted existence, Lynn worked around the clock at the Institution, doing anything and everything from teaching acting classes to restocking books at the library. She had her hand in every basket as a way of to outrun her demons. Now that she was forced to stop, she could see the effect. And if she was being completely honest, it was the only honest labor she'd ever done in her life. Lynn could regard her new wrinkles and scars with pride. For once. Because even if they marred her, she earned them.

Now if only she could get a good night's sleep. She snorted, most unlady-like and completely unaffected, as she turned her chair away from the window. Her eyes caught on the bar cart. She pursed her lips and sipped her now luke-warm tea. The sound of footfalls nearing drew her attention away and back toward the door.

Keith Mars walked into the parlor, ducked his head and set two empty glasses on the cart.

"Is he…" Lynn started, her voice raw to her own ears, as if she hadn't spoken in years.

"Sleeping," Keith nodded, filling his glass with a sad smile and motioning at the chair across from Lynn. She smiled brightly and extended him an invitation to sit. "It's surreal, isn't it? Seeing him again."

Lynn cocked her head, her fingers anxiously tapping on her cup. "He's exactly as I remember him, and yet not at all. I don't really know what to make of it. He's a man, clearly. And a war hero? I don't know anything about his service, but I see he carries it around his neck like a noose." Keith's surprised expression threw her for a second, then she continued. "I may have been a lousy drunk, but don't for a second think I didn't know my son."

Keith nodded and his mouth quirked into a half-smile. "You'll be happy to know his mouth is exactly the same. Smart as it ever was."

Laughter bubbled up and spilled from Lynn, surprising even herself with its volume and earnestness. She quieted after a moment, still smiling though she could feel the tears prick, and set her cup on the side table.

"I'm sorry. It's just that I never thought I'd see him again. Whether or not he came back from war, I never thought he'd seek me out."

"You're his mother, Lynn. Regardless of what's happened in the past—as awful as it may have been—it's done. All you can do is hope to move forward."

"Move forward?" she said with deliberation. Her eyes narrowed and honed on Keith. She couldn't understand how that could happen. In order for them to move on, Logan would have to forgive her—which she wasn't sure she deserved. Could he disassociate all of the negative memories of his mother watching as his father beat him? No. There was no way. She didn't think she'd be able to do that, and how could she expect him to. Her head shook as her arms crossed in front of her body.

"He's been looking for you since he got back, Lynn. And Veronica even longer." The tears that had threatened spilled from the corners of her eyes unchecked. "You could've never stopped Aaron, Lynn. You have to know that." Keith sat forward, elbows on knees, and offered her his handkerchief.

She took it and flourished it through the air before daintily dabbing her eyes. She caught Keith laughing to himself, shaking his head with what looked like an eye roll.

"What?" she demanded, mildly affronted.

"Just seeing where Logan got it from. It's enlightening, really."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Keith." He leaned forward and snatched the handkerchief from her hand, waving it all about in front of him before dramatically fanning himself with it.

"The flair for the dramatic. Even the most mundane task that kid makes look like an intricate dance, and now I know why."

"Why Mr. Mars, are you implying that my son is a ham?"

Keith laughed and sat back in the recliner. He appeared to take a second to think about it before nodding his head.

Lynn laughed again, throwing her head back and clapping with delighted. "I'm glad to hear it."

She watched as Keith's smile faltered, his brows knit together and he sighed. "Lynn, can I ask...what your plans are, you know, when we get back?"

"I don't really know, Keith. I hadn't really been planning on going back just yet. I heard Logan say something about taking the circuitous route back to Neptune. I guess that gives me a few days to get something solid together."

"Well, I'm sure you're aware there's room at the house. You're more than welcome, obviously...I just thought you should know."

"That's very kind, Keith, but I'm sure Logan and Veronica don't want me looming while they're trying to reconcile...or whatever it is they're doing."

"Well, I think the reconciliation is complete. They still keep separate rooms, but I really think it's just because I'm there. It's sweet they try and keep up the pretense at all, but I appreciate it nonetheless."

"Oh, I didn't realize...that seems very fast doesn't it?" She was concerned. Not that she really had reason to be, or the right to be, but she couldn't help it. She was worried.

"C'mon! You saw those kids. And I mean kids, Lynn. They've been in love with each other since before they knew what love was."

"I'm surprised you're so calm about this."

"Veronica is an adult. She has been for a long time. Without my help, or guidance—or her mother's for that matter—and I trust her judgment. And if she thinks that Logan is worthy of her love, then who am I to object? Clearly, I'm not the best judge of character when it comes to matters of the heart. I don't even know where my former, or current I suppose, wife is." He drained his glass with a mirthless chuckle and set it loudly on the table.

Lynn winced. They were both silent for a moment before she spoke. "I think you and I got the short end of a few sticks, and while that may be quite literal in your case—"

"Hey!" Finally. A shred of normalcy. Lynn and Keith talked and laughed into the dawn as the train barreled west, finally breaking free of the snow.

* * *

Lynn and Logan had managed a modicum of pleasant conversation as they traveled across the country. There were a million things Lynn wanted to ask, but she never pushed, never dared to cross lines. She had seen him on the phone in Chicago—moony faced and sixteen all over again—and it took every ounce of self-preservation she had to not tease and pester him into telling her everything. Patience, she reminded herself. They'd get there.

The train began to slow for the last time as San Diego's Union Station came into view. Lynn was nervous. California could do that to a person. But she'd promised herself and Logan that she would be better. She hadn't seen him in the last few hours, probably packing, checking, re-packing, pacing...she chuckled. He'd been a bundle of nerves from the moment they crossed into California.

The train's whistle split through the air as the wheels began to screech on the track. Lynn wasn't even sure the train had stopped fully when she Logan's trenched figure step onto the platform. He moved with purpose to a small figure draped in dusky rose coat and hat. She watched as Logan's shy smile turned to one of reverence as he cupped the face of the girl and pulled her toward him. They spun, blissfully unaware of anyone else around them, until she and Keith disembarked the train. Veronica smiled warmly at Lynn though her eyes looked red and something about the way she was holding onto Logan's hands nettled every bit of maternal instinct in her.

"Welcome back, Lynn. Shall we?"


End file.
